I Will Find You
by acciorachell
Summary: Distance. He was drifting from her, creating a wall of coldness that felt impossible to bypass. Fear. The kind that was visceral and entangled with uncertainty towards who he was becoming. And in the midst of it all: Hope. That she would gradually break through the ice and find him once again. [multi-chapter/slowburn akashixoc]
1. the beginning

**A/N: Before I begin, I'd like to mention briefly that the main storyline occurs in Rakuzan. Therefore, the chapters leading up to that point will involve unannounced time-skips, and will likely be a great deal shorter!**

* * *

I

* * *

Teiko Junior High's opening ceremony had concluded with the announcement of the two first year representatives - Akashi Seijuro and Nanase Eru. It was not by chance that these two had been chosen; their astoundingly high scores in the entrance examination had secured their positions.

With bangs shielding her face from view, and eyes cast towards the ground, the girl appeared more shy than anything; she constantly wrung her hands, trying to keep in step with the boy. His brisk, confident stride and piercing gaze was a stark contrast to the girl. As a nervous second year ushered them towards a meeting room, she could not help but notice how neither of them spared a single glance at each other.

* * *

Seijuro had chosen this school due to its renown basketball team, which would be ideal to hone his skills. "A man from the Akashi family must excel in all fields," his father had always told him. It was unsurprising that he had received the top scores in the entrance exam, but it was slightly unexpected that someone had attained a mark almost on par with his own. He did not think his father would be pleased. Whether it was in academics, sports or music, he had to excel in order to live up to the Akashi name. He had to meet the expectations.

If he failed, he feared that the foundations he built himself upon would come crashing down on him. Sometimes he just wanted to escape.

* * *

As she studied the motionless figure to her right, Eru concluded that Seijuro had absolutely nothing in common with her in terms of their physical aspects. While his hair was crimson, mirroring the colour of his eyes, hers, in contrast, were both dark brown. Dull, just like her personality, she reflected. Even though he was quite short, Seijuro still towered over her petite figure - something that made her even more uncomfortable in his presence. The aura he exuded was unlike anyone she had ever met before. He carried himself with unrivalled confidence, but she did not detect any signs of arrogance on his features. In fact, he appeared to be quite benign.

Eru's feet tapped rhythmically against the wooden floor, unnerved by the fact that she had been left alone - and in complete silence - with a stranger for such a long time. Seijuro, however, maintained an air of composure. A serene, polite smile graced his face and he seemed unaffected by the tense atmosphere.

"So..." The moment the words escaped from her lips, Eru regretted her decision. Seijuro turned towards her questioningly, waiting patiently for her to continue. She flushed in embarrassment. It was already difficult handling normal social situations; now her ineptness was essentially placed on a pedestal for him to see. Sensing her obvious discomfort, Seijuro rose smoothly to his feet and extended a hand towards her.

"Akashi Seijuro."

She smiled gently, gripping his hand. "Nanase Eru."

She could not say that it was the beginning of a new friendship, but it certainly was a start.

* * *

Quite like any typical first day, the school year commenced with an air of lethargy. Since students were assigned to classes based on their scores in the entrance exams, Eru found herself in the same class as Seijuro - 1A. He seated himself next to her in homeroom, possibility due to the slight familiarity. She did not mind his company; it saved her from needing to interact with new people, as well as made discussions regarding their duties as level representatives much simpler.

Eru's eyes inadvertently settled on the figure to her left as the teacher's words swam languidly through her unfocussed mind. It was actually almost eerie how his attention never diverted away from the teacher. In the subsequent lessons, his hands were in constant motion, relentlessly copying down notes; she could not possibly share his diligence.

Finding herself jolted around as her fellow students pushed towards the classroom exit, Eru briefly reflected that this was not an entirely alien feeling. Her quiet disposition in addition to her small stature made it easy for people to overlook her, both figuratively and literally. Then, Eru felt a warm, calloused hand securing her wrist and pulling her away from the mayhem; now this _was_ an uncommon occurrence.

"You appeared to be in quite an undesirable situation there." the amused upturn of Seijuro's lips caused her cheeks to take on a pink tint.

"T-thank you," she responded, hanging her head sheepishly.

"Let's go," his air of confidence was still something she could not quite fathom. It was as if he _knew_ the inner workings of her brain; her fear that she would have to make an entrance into the cafeteria alone.

People did say that spring universally incorporated the elements of hope, love and renewal. Perhaps the future still held some promise for her.

* * *

Break times were routinely spent together, either at the cafeteria or in their classroom, reading in silence. She admittedly did enjoy his presence, even though she still felt uncomfortable holding conversations with him. In turn, he did not seem to be bothered by her introversion and would not actively try to break prolonged silences by making small talk.

Shafts of light from the midday sun streamed through the window and formed dappled patterns on the wooden floor. The gentle breeze ruffled Eru's hair as she stared idly at the literature text in front of her; she was having a particularly difficult time processing the words. After reading the exact same sentence for the fourth time - "How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world." - a soft sigh escaped Eru's lips as her eyes fluttered shut in exasperation.

Eru's eyes flickered open upon hearing the grating sound of chair legs against wooden tiles, followed by swift footsteps. Seijuro's figure loomed over her desk as he extended a board towards Eru with a half smile.

"Nanase-san, have you played shougi before?" Eru stared at him, uncomprehending, before shaking her head slightly.

"I only know the basics. I haven't played before."

"Allow me to teach you." In one smooth motion, he positioned a chair opposite Eru before taking a seat.

After setting up the pieces, Seijuro gestured towards the board, allowing her to make the first move. He was a patient teacher; despite the repetition of errors on her part, he never allowed the slightest bit of irritation to seep into his tone as he slowly explained her mistakes. Even though she was a mere beginner, Seijuro's skill did not go unnoticed by Eru. His instantaneous moves left no doubt in her mind that he was probably more than five steps ahead of her, and the disparity was growing steadily. Although the undeniable difference in skill should have been daunting, she could not help but feel awe for the boy in front of her - his intelligence was on an entirely different level.

"What co-curricular activity are you planning on joining?" Eru looked up from the board, noticeably embarrassed.

"Honestly, outside of academics, I don't really have talents. Sports are completely out of the question, and I'm the least artistically inclined person in Japan; that already rules out majority of the clubs. I suppose what I excel in is analysing, collecting data and doing research."

"That certainly seems to limit your options," Seijuro agreed, watching her intently. "Perhaps your interests are better directed towards being a club manager. For instance, the Teiko basketball team happens to recruit managers for each of the three strings."

When Eru looked back up at him, it was clear that the game of Shougi before them would be completely neglected. A shy smile adorned her features and Eru scrambled to her feet hastily before bowing to Seijuro.

"Thank you," she said simply, and hurried out of the room. There was not enough time to evaluate the pros and cons. Sign-ups ended today.

* * *

Seijuro's eyes drifted away from her retreating figure, back to the shougi board, as he pondered the consequences of his words.

He had merely used the basketball team as an example of a club that needed a manager, but he had clearly overlooked the possibility that Eru might take his words to heart and act rashly. He was uncertain if he minded Eru being in the same club as him; he could not deny that he was quickly getting used to her quiet and unassuming demeanour. However, they were already forced to spend extensive amounts of time in the presence of each other. There was a chance that the addition of club hours could be detrimental.

* * *

The other people who had signed up, Eru realised, were there for the sole purpose of staring at well-built boys playing basketball. It was no wonder she had been accepted as manager of the first string. Within ten minutes, she would be introduced to the members of the first string that she would be dealing with for the remaining year. She was not looking forward to standing in front of an entire team of judgemental boys.

"Are you sure she isn't still in elementary school?" A second year commented, studying Eru's small stature.

"Hah, she really is tiny. I heard she's really smart though - almost on par with Akashi Seijuro one year below us."

"You have got to be kidding me."

"No way that's possible," another voice echoed.

Eru hung her head as she compared her 150 centimetre tall figure to the incredible height of the basketball team. She was familiar with people judging her abilities just by assessing her physical appearance. However, being reminded constantly did not exactly ease the pain. Everyone tended to underestimate her; and she supposed she could not really fault them. She might do the same in their position.

"Pay no attention to their words. I'm sure you'll do just fine," Nijimura Shuzo offered her a benign smile, before calling the first string to attention.

Eru dimly noted that Seijuro had somehow made it to the first string, despite him being a first year. What resounded within her the most was the immense difference in abilities. While he invariably excelled at everything, she did not seem to possess any talents.

He was like the Sun, and she was a shadow that he cast.

* * *

Despite the rough start, the members of the first string quickly warmed up to Eru. Despite their initial reservations towards her, they begin to appreciate her unassuming presence. On her part, she was growing fond of their rambunctious dispositions in and out of court.

Eru especially enjoyed analysing their practices. As a person who was completely disinclined towards sports, Eru could hardly begin to comprehend the skill that the first string possessed. After a few lessons on basketball theory from Nijimura, she had actively watched professional games to broaden her knowledge.

Managing such a large team had been a daunting task at first, but it was not quite as bad as she expected. Their judgemental gazes had done little to calm her nerves, and Eru felt tongue-tied every time she had to address them publically. Her situation had improved drastically within the second week, when she had firmly reprimanded Haizaki Shogo for skipping practice. When she had approached him fearlessly, demanding to hear his excuses for playing truant, it had gathered a lot of attention from the players; it _was_ quite a sight to see Haizaki put in place by a girl 30 centimetres shorter than him.

* * *

Perhaps it was their inevitable interactions as the acting level representatives. Perhaps it was the fact that they spent numerous hours in the club room together, studying documents after Seijuro became vice captain of the basketball club. Or perhaps it had been a combination of both factors. Either way, he had gradually become accustomed to Eru's presence, and the same could be said for the latter.

It was a common sight to see the two figures walking side by side towards their next classes. Strictly adhering to his upbringing, Seijuro sometimes offered to carry Eru's textbooks when they were heavier. She always refused.

Breaks were spent in class playing shougi, occasionally graced by the presence of Midorima Shintaro. Like himself, Midorima had been assigned to the first string during tryouts. He held a strange fascination for horoscopes, and seeing him without his lucky item was unfathomable.

While Eru was horrible at handling crowds, she coped relatively well once the numbers were reduced. Sometimes, Eru engaged Midorima in conversations about their daily luck; it seemed that she was the only person who did not deem Midorima as weird for his abject belief in fate.

"What is your star sign?" was his first question directed towards her. As Seijuro observed the two interact more frequently, he noticed that Midorima would bring Eru her lucky item when Libra's luck was questionable.

When Midorima had more pressing matters to attend to, Seijuro would find himself in the classroom alone with Eru. He usually tried to finish up his homework, but he often caught himself throwing an occasional glance towards the girl. It always intrigued him how her facial expressions could change so drastically when she was captivated by the contents of the book - his own features were schooled into a permanent, polite smile. Her brows would furrow slightly, and vague impressions of frown lines would appear on her forehead; her gentle smile was replaced by pursed lips; her eyes attention would be directed completely towards her novel.

Seijuro turned away. He could not afford to be distracted; his father would be most displeased.


	2. sweetness in spring

_sweetness: the quality of being pleasing or delightful_

* * *

Tall window panes allowed the midday sun to access the unlit corridor. The route to 1A felt longer than usual. The stack of textbooks in her hand weighed her body down like a sack of bricks.

In hindsight, it had not been her best idea to go to school today. Her stride faltered; a wave of what felt like electricity would shoot up her spine every time she took a step. Balancing her books precariously on her right hand, her other reached up to massage the sharp pains in her temple, reducing it to a dull throb. Eru could only hope that she did not look as bad as she felt.

Placing her study materials roughly onto the table, Eru sank down into her seat. She glanced briefly at her reflection on her phone screen – her face looked drawn and tired. This morning, she had tried without success to conceal the dark shadows beneath her eyes.

It was getting harder to fall asleep at night.

* * *

It was difficult for him to understand her.

With her quick, albeit shy smiles and her gentle nature, it was easy to see why people around her could open up so easily. What they failed to notice was that she did not let her guard down similarly. Eru, he realised, often unconsciously convinced people that they were close to her. If they took time to reflect, it would dawn on them that they knew next to nothing about her. He was no exception.

Seijuro knew the basics, of course. Her favourite subject was physics and she often made it known to him that she despised geography. She liked pastel colours, but she did not have a particular preference. She enjoyed reading and writing, hence, she spent most of her free time in school indulging in those activities. But everything else remained shrouded in mystery. He knew nothing about her family or her personal life, because she never spoke of it.

Amongst everyone she interacted with in school, there was no doubt in Seijuro's mind that he was her closest friend. _If she even considered him as such_. They were technically on first-name basis, although Eru had initially been adamant on referring to him as "Akashi-kun". Perhaps it was their rapidly developing camaraderie or the fact that he always seemed to pay particularly close attention to her; one way or another, the dark circles around her eyes highlighting her insufficient sleep as well as her hunched back were blindingly obvious to him.

"What happened?" His quiet demand resounded in her ears, and she gazed at him evenly. He did not miss her change in expression. Eru's signature smile had replaced her initially distant and exhausted disposition within seconds.

"What are you talking about, Seijuro?" He caught the falsely cheery tone, and the way she fiddled with the book she was carrying. She had even gone so far as to call him Seijuro, as if that would throw him off her tracks. His eyes narrowed marginally, observing her body language – closed up and aloof – while deliberating on his next words carefully. Deciding that he would get nowhere pursuing the topic, Seijuro shook his head dismissively.

"It's nothing."

* * *

If it was difficult to move, it was infinitely harder to direct her attention towards the teacher. The voice that was earnestly explaining the significance behind Shakespeare's famous "Sonnet 18" fell on deaf ears. Her vision drifted in and out of focus as her mind grew hazier by the second. Resting her head gently on the table, she allowed a muffled groan to escape her lips. Concentrating was so much harder with only a few hours of sleep, and she could not imagine how she would ever be able to keep this up throughout the year. She could practically feel Seijuro's gaze fix on her, with the air of curiosity he often adopted when dealing with her.

The shrill sound emitted by the school bell echoed hauntingly in her mind, and she straightened with a start. Seijuro had already packed his belongings and he waited patiently by her table, lost in thought. She hastily scrambled to collect her books before gesturing to the doorway.

The textbooks in Eru's arms were weighing her down. For the third time, she readjusted her study materials, trying to find a comfortable location to rest them on. It seemed that she had gotten weaker, perhaps from the lack of sleep.

"Allow me to carry your textbooks." Seijuro reached for the load in her arms.

"Thank you, but it's fine." Eru brushed him aside once more, unsuccessfully trying to disguise her unsteady footsteps. She heard him heave a quiet sigh before matching his pace with hers.

It had not been the first time that Eru had stubbornly rejected his offer. Somehow, Seijuro always seemed to catch on to her exhaustion. While it was a sweet gesture, she could not afford to show her weaknesses. She would never consent to him carrying her burdens for her.

* * *

Her absence had not been particularly noticeable at first - just a couple of days each month. Even though it was not like him to make assumptions, he simply attributed it to feeling under the weather. Lately, Eru had been skipping club sessions more frequently. The seat next to his was empty for at least one day each week. On the days that she was not present, Seijuro would never receive replies to the messages he sent her. She would proceed to feign confusion the next day.

From the teachers' hushed conversations and confused glances, it was apparent to him that they were unaware of her situation as well. The teachers' questioning was met with the same outcome. Perhaps, Seijuro thought, in situations like this, it was best not to meddle; everyone had their own secrets, after all.

As the situation escalated, his resolve not to press Eru for answers dwindled. He could tell that her smiles were becoming more forced, her breaths more laboured; her footsteps more weary. He was not sure if he should intervene.

"Eru," he said after much deliberation. At her questioning glance, he continued, "What's wrong?"

There. There was the forced smile; the hesitant body movements. Why was she hiding so much from him? The light in her eyes dimmed; they looked fragmented. When she replied, she could not disguise the pain in her voice.

"It is nothing of importance."

Half shrouded in the darkness of the clubroom, her wearied gestures was exemplified. The afternoon sun shone brightly. She was the shadow that the sun could not hope to cast light upon; she was like the mystery he could not solve.

* * *

It was hard for her to take a breath sometimes. And it was even harder for her to hide her pain from Seijuro. For some inexplicable reason, Eru desperately wanted him to tear through the barriers she spent years building. And it was for that exact reason that she was so absolutely terrified.

Once in a while, someone like him would make an appearance in her life. Someone who exuded the same type of confidence that quelled her fears. Someone who made her believe that she would be safe in the face of danger, as long as they were by her side. Someone who would ultimately betray her.

If she made the mistake of trusting someone like that again, there was no guarantee that the scars would not reopen once more. There was simply no room for such mistakes.

* * *

Seijuro knew innately that there was something abjectly wrong with her. The shy smiles that he had come to appreciate, the casual laughter that escaped her lips; even the distant sparkle in her eyes was close to non-existent. Although he knew that it would not be fair to press her for answers, a part of him held a desperation to understand; a desire to unravel her character.

When she quietly occupied the seat next to him in the class directly before break, he could not help but shoot a glance in her direction. The bruise on her face was decidedly ghastly; the bluish-black mark stretched across her right cheek, its garish nature marring her features. Her eyes were bloodshot. If eyes were truly the window to one's soul, then her soul must truly be shattered and scarred.

"Eru, what on earth happened to you?" his right hand stretched out involuntarily towards her. He did not, _could not_ , miss the way she flinched from his touch, as though the mere idea of human contact filled her with dread. She shook her head resolutely before reaching into her bag for her novel.

"Eru, stop trying to avoid the question," the commanding tone was unmistakable, just like the lump that formed in her throat. "Please, just talk to me." Seijuro could almost see her internal battle as her downcast eyes fought to avoid contact with his.

"I can't," she whispered, the beginning of tears glistened at the edges of her dark orbs, "I just can't. Please inform the teacher that I'm going home." Before he had the chance to speak, she packed her belongings and briskly left the classroom. The gust of spring wind that swept through the classroom's open windows was far from sweet.

* * *

Eru's bag pressed heavily against her back, resulting in a surge of discomfort. Her heart ached as she thought of the expression of hurt that flitted across Seijuro's face; it was probably the first time someone had genuinely expressed concern for her wellbeing, and yet, she had just pushed him away.

Shaking her head in a fruitless attempt to rid herself of the onslaught of distressing thoughts, Eru hurriedly exited the main building of Teiko. The courtyard was expectedly in full bloom, and the fresh spring air was a welcome change to the confines of the classroom. The high, sunlit clouds drifted lazily across the clear sky, providing the perfect amount of shade from the sun. But even the most pleasant Japanese weather did little to lift her spirits; in fact, it was almost as though the gorgeous weather was mocking her, she reflected bitterly.

Against her own will, Eru continued to wander through the field of fresh flowers. There was no concrete reason for her reluctance to leave, only an imaginary string that kept her tethered within the school grounds. The shrill ringing of the bell signalled the end of the period, effectively snapping her out of the daze that she had unwittingly fallen into. It was quite about time that she made a move.

"Eru!" She heard a raised voice that could only belong to one person, followed by unhurried but decisive footsteps. "What are you still doing here?" Eru turned to face Seijuro just as a gentle hand was about to rest upon her shoulder. She flinched, jerking her body away from his contact. The hurt present in his crimson eyes was unmistakable. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Take care of yourself," before striding back into the building.

The burden on her back was heavier than before; surely her bag could not have increased in mass. As she began to stride forward, her head turned back involuntarily towards the entrance of the building; perhaps a part of her hoped that she might catch a glimpse of red hair. But all she saw was closing glass doors and his figure disappearing from her sight.

* * *

He was distracted – something he had not experienced in a long while. But even his best attempts to refocus his attention on the set of notes before him were nullified by his involuntary glances out of the window. The ridiculous notion that Eru would come back pervaded his thoughts. Seijuro ruffled his hair slightly in annoyance; he really needed to stop wasting time dwelling on something that could potentially cause him to fall below expectations.

In spite of his best attempts to rid his mind of Eru, there was no denying the occasional glance out of the paned window and the sinking feeling in his heart.


	3. serenity in summer

_serenity: being calm, peaceful or untroubled; the state of tranquility._

* * *

He awoke to the rising sun painting the sky in a myriad of hues. The curtains of his bay window were drawn, allowing dim rays of light through and revealing the characteristic pink clouds of a summer's dawn.

Despite the brilliant spectacle before him, there was a nagging feeling lingering at the back of his mind. His mind drifted unwittingly to the persistent mystery that he desperately wanted to solve. It was especially exasperating for someone of his intellectual capacity to continuously encounter obstacles, but for reasons unknown to him, Seijuro could hardly bring himself to investigate thoroughly when Eru seemed so reluctant to disclose any information to him.

Perhaps it was better to wait, and hopefully she would be comfortable sharing with him some day. But the promise of understanding in due time was hardly enough for his insatiable curiosity, and his desire to know. He massaged his temples to clear his mind and allowed a resigned sigh to escape his lips. _Soon._

* * *

She awoke as soon as the first rays of light made their appearance through the cracks in between her curtains. The air was deceptively still, and in any other situation – in any other place – she would have paused for a few seconds to simply relish the spring morning. Instead, she changed into her school uniform with unrivalled haste, gathered her school supplies and sneaked out through the backdoor. Her shoulders only relaxed after exiting the ostentatious gates of her family manor, and even then, there was no denying the way she cast an occasional furtive glance behind her.

Seijuro was already waiting for her when she arrived at the entrance of Teiko. The warm smile that graced his features worked wonders, and soon the frown lines marring her forehead disappeared, making way for the uninhibited laughter that sounded alien to her own ears. Eru could not explain how he was able to make her _feel_ so much; it really had been a long while since anyone had been able to evoke such strong and visceral emotions from her. Being next to him made everything feel natural, like she would never need to search desperately for a reason to smile anymore.

They sat at their regular seats for the first period, waiting patiently for the English teacher to come. Before a couple of minutes had even passed, she began drumming her fingers nervously against the table, worried about the results to the test that they would be receiving later. Eru was not usually unsettled by tests, because she never felt uncertain about most of her answers. But this time was different; she had barely focussed and she frankly could not seem to remember processing anything properly. Warmth enveloped her hand as Seijuro pressed lightly against it to stop the drumming; she realised belatedly how aggravating the repetitive noise must have been.

"Sorry," she whispered to him. Seijuro shook his head with a slight smile on his face, before he retracted his hand.

"Calm down." The effect he had on her must truly be magic. There simply could not be anything else that could explain the instantaneous wave of calm that filled with her overwhelming peace. Eru flashed him a quick smile before settling down. The moment was short-lived, but memorable. On the pristine white paper, that the teacher returned to her trembling fingers, was a large 'B' scrawled in red ink. She didn't think she had ever scored anything other than an A in her entire life – that simply was not allowed in her family. A brief flash of fear gripped her heart at the prospect of bringing this dismal grade home, and a sigh inadvertently escaped her lips.

"How did you do?" She asked Seijuro weakly. The A grade on his paper was hardly unexpected, but it did little to quell the sinking feeling in her chest.

"You don't have to be upset, I'm sure you just made a few careless mistakes." Seijuro's attempt at consolation did little to allay her fears, but went far in assuring her that he _cared_.

"My parents will be really angry." She could almost hear the tremor in her voice.

There was a brief pause as Seijuro allowed her simple statement to sink in. A sad smile crossed his face before being replaced by a look of understanding.

"My father always pushes for excellence as well. He's strict." His hand automatically reached out to pat her comfortingly on the arm and she accepted his touch, grateful for the warmth that it gave. "We can both succeed together." There was something so blithely assuring in his tone that she allowed herself to relax momentarily. She had been so focussed on herself before that she failed to recognise how Seijuro himself could have been struggling with the same kind of pressure to succeed.

Sometimes, there came moments where two completely different individuals were inexplicably connected in the most bizarre of ways. It did not need much conversation; the silent understanding that passed between people who shared similar experiences would suffice. There remained a great number of things they had yet to learn about one another, but this would surely be progress in a steadfast friendship.

* * *

Within a few months, she had steadily grown accustomed to the intricacies of basketball. Beyond the basics of recognising the positions, watching professional games had allowed her to gain a more concrete understanding of the strategies and tactics revolving around the sport. This came easily enough to her, and she found herself roped into long discussions with the coach and Nijimura before upcoming matches.

That being said, it was not exactly easy adjusting to her responsibilities so quickly. Being the level representative, the manager of the first string _and_ Seijuro's only academic rival came with the occasional sacrifice – sleep, mostly. At least it was a sacrifice she did not truly mind making. After all, attending club meetings gave her a reason to remain in school for much longer than necessary.

Oddly enough, the basketball club had quickly become her safe haven; a place of solace where she was convinced that she would find peace of mind. It was her constant. Often, it was the brief moments of spontaneous laughter, the joyful banter and the unfiltered happiness that lingered in one's memory, even when all others faded away. For Eru, those memories were made with the regulars of Teiko's first string, where the atmosphere rang with mirth and there was no shortage of smiles.

She leaned against the cool surface of the clubroom table and closed her eyes. The summer breeze ruffled her hair gently, filling the room with a peculiar scent that was unique to the season – freshly mown grass with a touch of petrichor where the rain mingled with the dry ground. It was tranquil, save for the occasional rustle as Midorima fiddled with his lucky item for the day: an unattractive green frog. It was a welcome respite away from the cacophony that dominated the hallways during school hours.

The silence did not last long of course – it rarely did – and the peace was shattered by the unnecessarily loud noises that heralded Aomine's entrance into the clubroom.

"Sup Nanase– the hell is that ugly frog, Midorima? You tryna find a lookalike or something?"

Midorima bristled visibly, "It's my lucky item for today, of course. Maybe if you followed Oha-Asa more closely, you wouldn't be failing every test." His superior tone naturally aggravated Aomine even further, causing the latter to narrow his eyes in a challenge.

"Mine-chin, Mido-chin, why are you always arguing?" The familiar lazy drawl could be heard even before Murasakibara pushed open the sliding door of the room; an array of his favourite snacks nestled in his arms.

"I was simply correcting his flawed way of thinking." Midorima loftily turned his attention back to his lucky item.

"By using an ugly frog to prove his point," Aomine muttered derisively.

Once upon a time, she would have expressed strong preferences for solitude and tranquillity. But amidst the chaotic banter unique to this particular group of individuals, Eru found a strange semblance of peace that could only be described as a sense of belonging.

* * *

It was nearing August: the end of the first school term and the beginning of the summer vacation. Some days, Seijuro would find himself actively seeking Eru's companionship. Midorima was certainly a more contemplative foe, but Eru consistently made unexpected, yet surprisingly clever moves that he occasionally failed to foresee.

This simple observation could go far in distinguishing between their vastly different types of intellect. While Midorima was more rigid and rarely deviated from the norm, Eru relied more on intuition, and was oddly eager to adopt creative new approaches to situations. She was refreshing even with her unassuming demeanour.

Still, she was often blissfully unfocussed, resulting in a number of easily avoidable mistakes. Perhaps he ought to be more disdainful of incompetency or failure as his father always taught him, but a part of him found it strangely endearing that she could be such an odd balance of elegance and confusion.

* * *

The clubroom was silent, save for the gentle rattling of the windows bearing the brunt of the strong summer wind, and the intermittent, light clatter of shougi pieces when Seijuro or Eru made their moves. The latter furrowed her brow as Seijuro captured yet another of her pieces – a knight this time.

"What is your favourite colour?" The question that left his mouth was unexpectedly mundane. "I think mine would be maroon."

"Maroon?" she asked curiously, "Because of your hair and eye colour?"

"No, that's not the reason," Seijuro let out a small laugh. "That would be rather narcissistic of me, don't you think?" There was a brief pause before he hastened to continue. "My mother's hair was a darker shade of maroon. The colour reminds me of her."

 _Was,_ he said. She noticed a strange expression flit across his face, as if he hadn't intended to elaborate, but inadvertently did so anyway. A part of Eru wanted to understand more, but the other half held back. She of all people understood the importance of respecting privacy, especially since she was so hesitant to open up to Seijuro in the first place.

"Turquoise," she said quickly. "It reminds me of the sea." That much was true, although she hadn't elaborated on the exact reason.

Still, there was something in Seijuro's face – or perhaps his posture – that compelled her to say more. There were times when she felt a rush of closeness to someone, mixed with the inexplicable desire to open up to them. Perhaps it could be explained simply by attributing it to a human's natural inclination towards social interaction, or perhaps it was something deeper – the inherent connection that she felt to Seijuro, so much so that losing him as a friend was unimaginable.

It was rather strange that most friends often lack knowledge of the simple things: their close friends' favourite colour, food, drink, song. The increased emphasis on seemingly bigger things – personal problems, struggles, relationships – had ultimately drawn the attention away from the beauty of the minute aspects of someone's life, almost as if everyone had simultaneously forgotten how much meaning those little details could carry as well.

In the same way, the simple question that Seijuro had asked brought about unexpected effects. It was evident that there was still so much more she had to learn about him. Every individual possessed an incredible depth, built up by infinitesimal pieces that constituted their character, personality, their _person_ , until a masterpiece was created, complete with tiny – often negligible – details that formed their very essence.

They still had a long way to go. But, if the gentle smile that glossed over Seijuro's face was any indication, they would make it there, and she had a reason to continue hoping.


	4. a surreal spring

**A/N: This is the beginning of spring in the second year. There is a particular pattern to the seasons across the 3 years of middle school, and the reason for skipping certain seasons (and thereby gradually increasing the length of each year) will become more apparent later as you read on.**

* * *

 _surreal: having the unreal, fantastic quality of a dream._

* * *

Their second year had the pair more involved in the Teiko basketball club than ever. The hours spent alone in the clubroom increased, especially after Seijuro was promoted to captain at the end of the previous year. They often remained in the school grounds until past eight at night, Seijuro studying the specifications of each member in the basketball team and Eru analysing possible opponents' tactics.

"Eru, it's late." A tinge of concern laced his words. Seijuro and Eru routinely left for home together. This night, however, it seemed as though Eru had no intention of returning home, if the digital clock displaying "21:32" was any indication.

"Go home, then." Seijuro narrowed his eyes fractionally at the defiant nature of her words. It was definitely uncharacteristic of her to brush off his words so dismissively.

"I'm not concerned about myself. Wouldn't your parents be worried about your safety?" Seijuro studied the girl carefully - past experience told him that she would hastily redirect the focus from her personal life. Just as he predicted, Eru's frame stiffened slightly, before she fired back, "What about yours?"

Seijuro was well aware that his father would not care - he was perpetually fixated on running his extensive business; Seijuro himself was more of an investment than anything, a future for his company. His mother could not care; _she was too far gone_. As though sensing that she had crossed a line, Eru hastened to make amends.

"Sorry for being so irritable; I didn't mean to offend you. I just wasn't planning on returning home for the night." That confession was unexpected. Seijuro raised one eyebrow sceptically.

"Why?" His question came across as a demand, just like many others before it. Eru paused, her pen hovering centimetres away from the paper, her dark eyes refusing to meet Seijuro's piercing ones.

Despite their relatively close relationship, Seijuro often found it difficult to unravel the girl's secrets. Their current situation was proof of his predicament. He sighed as Eru muttered something about needing to complete her homework and make preparations for the next match.

"You told me you didn't have homework during break and our next match is not for two weeks."

She blanched before quickly regaining her composure. "I have homework from the subjects after break."

A blatant lie. He shared those classes with her, and he recalled that none of the teachers had assigned any homework to them. Rather than pushing the subject, he quietly gathered his belongings and took his leave.

* * *

He always found practice calming – the rhythmic beat of the basketballs pounding against the floor soothed him. The repetition helped Seijuro get a grip on his surroundings, and feel as though he had absolute control over everything. In the midst of his oppressive life at home, the feeling was surreal.

Even without his title as captain of the basketball club, Seijuro's presence commanded respect and awe, as well as obedience.

"Aomine, Murasakibara, Midorima, Kise and Kuroko," his voice echoed across the courts. "Come with me." Leading the group to the clubroom, Seijuro could feel curiosity rolling off them in waves. As Seijuro opened the door, gesturing for them to enter, he was greeted by an unexpected sight: Nanase Eru was slumped over, sleeping fitfully.

"Eh? This is what you wanted to show us?" Kise asked, looking as perplexed as Seijuro felt.

"No." He gently shook the girl awake, concealing his own puzzlement. He had known Eru to be a passionate and determined individual – sleeping on the job was unheard of.

"Eru-chin? Do you need snacks to stay awake?" The girl in question was stricken with humiliation. Her blushing face and flurry of apologies lightened the mood considerably, but did not clear the doubts lingering in Seijuro's mind.

When the laughter died away, he turned to the first string regulars, "Success in the National Championships rests on our shoulders. I would like us to be in top condition. No one shall doubt our victory." To his approval, their carefree smiles were quickly replaced by resolute expressions.

 _Victory was everything._

* * *

After that episode where she was discovered asleep, Eru reflected that it would be even more challenging to hide from Seijuro's suspicions. She did not miss the worried glances he cast in her direction, nor the constant persuading for her to return home immediately.

A warm glow settled over the clubroom, emitted from what remained of the setting sun. Resting her head against her right palm, Eru took a shaky breath as she shut her eyes. They were burning from hours of staring at documents, and it was steadily growing more difficult to refocus her attention on the sheet of paper in front of her.

"Eru, shouldn't you take a break?" Seijuro paused, as though he was unsure of her reactions. "I understand that -"

"No, you _don't_ understand. You can't keep telling me that you do." Eru took a deep breath before continuing, "I know that you're trying to help. But you can't even _begin_ to understand anything. Not now, not _ever_." Her outburst echoed faintly in the small room, serving to reinforce the harsh meaning behind her sharp words.

A flash of hurt momentarily crossed Seijuro's features before he hastened to compose himself.

"Okay."

As she stared at his retreating figure, it briefly crossed her mind that she was supposed to feel elated that he had finally conceded. Instead, she wanted nothing more than to call out to him. To justify her words. To make sure that Seijuro knew that she was right. And maybe to see if he cared enough to come back to her. Why would he walk away from her when she needed him the most?

She felt an unnatural weight settle upon her as the door swung shut. Eru _knew_ that there was a natural tendency to expect the people closest to her heart to understand everything happening inside of it. Even though she shunned him and refusing to leave herself vulnerable; despite building up walls made of titanium that acted as a barricade preventing anyone from breaking through, there was an innate desire for someone, _him,_ to break down her walls and save the person trapped inside.

Eru desperately wanted Seijuro to understand, even if her cheerful facades served the purpose of evading him.

* * *

Despite her bitter words less than a week ago, Seijuro often felt that Eru's kindness was overlooked. Perhaps kindness was inversely proportionate; the smaller the person, the more kindness they contained. Then again, he mused, that principle did not really apply to himself.

She went to great extents to do ridiculous things for people, putting her happiness on the line, in order to salvage someone else's. "What if my joy is derived from making other people happy?" He recalled Eru justifying herself in such a fashion. He thought that notion was ridiculous. Who could risk so much for the sake of someone else's happiness and security and then claim to receive an equal amount of fulfilment from doing so?

To put things bluntly, Eru had a tendency not to use her brains in most situations. Despite being a logical and _generally_ reasonable person, her over-reliance on her emotions often led her to unfortunate situations that she could have avoided. He had told her once, "Rule with both your heart and your mind. Do not solely depend on one." Even as the words left his mouth, he was certain that it would take more than head knowledge to change her mind-set. And she certainly had not changed yet, he thought, as he surveyed the scene from the door of the classroom.

It was strange how one's raw emotions could lead them to do unfathomable things. For instance, how a demure, timid girl was staring defiantly into the eyes of two boys who were probably at least twenty centimetres taller than her.

"You shouldn't say those things to people; and it's inexcusable if you hurt them physically." Seijuro allowed the vague hint of an amused smile to grace his features as he began walking in their direction. The boys' responses to her reproachful tone were snorts of derision – a fatal mistake, Seijuro thought grimly, she would probably beat them both up in her current state.

As the taller of the two males raised his fist, Eru did the unexpected. She flinched. He knew he had not been mistaken when he saw the look of sheer terror on her face. Her clenched fists rose to defend herself, then abruptly fell limply to her sides, as though she thought that resistance was futile.

From his first few interactions with her, he had known that Eru was strong-willed. She _always_ portrayed herself as courageous. Not exactly brazen and bold, but determined to uphold moral justice, and that was how everyone knew her. But when the taller boy's fist collided with his palm, Seijuro's glance in her direction left him reeling. The supposedly indomitable girl that stood before him was not so fearless after all.

* * *

His first success in gleaning any information from her was in March. Like most other weekdays, Seijuro found himself working overtime in the clubroom, mostly for Eru's sake, as she seemed reluctant to leave as usual.

"Eru," He began softly. She closed her eyes, as though sensing what his next words would be. "Are you tired?"

At his words, her brown eyes opened by a margin, gazing towards him suspiciously. With a withdrawn sigh, she muttered an almost indistinct "Yes." Her next words caught Seijuro off guard. "I couldn't get any sleep again last night."

Deciding to push his luck, Seijuro ventured, "Is that why you have a tendency to sleep during breaks and club sessions?"

Eru gave a slight nod before she raised her head to meet his eyes. What startled him was not the dark circles, but the fact that her gaze seemed shattered. Even if he was aware that her positive disposition was all a brave front, he would never have imagined the soft-spoken, elusive girl to be this broken.

His next movements surprised himself. Rising from his seat, Seijuro crossed the room with lengthy strides and clasped her hands in his. "You can trust me." Her stiff, distant attitude softened instantly at his touch and he could see the unspoken gratitude reflected in Eru's eyes. When a few stubborn tears threatened to roll down her cheeks, Seijuro hesitantly moved both his hands towards her face, and gently wiped the tears away with his thumbs.

* * *

Eru supposed it had always been this way. She was the pitiful damsel in distress, and Seijuro was the stereotypical white knight who was always the one to rescue her. She often wondered what Seijuro actually saw in her, because her painfully average appearance and performance (in most aspects) and her occasionally irrational behaviour and unpredictable moods had not changed the fact that Seijuro had seen someone worth befriending in her.

It certainly was not a question of his popularity, if the number of girls clamouring to be his project partners was an indication. And she supposed that the stack of candygrams and love letters he found in his locker on Valentine's day months ago spoke for themselves. He did have other options – plenty of them – and the fact that he would kindly turn down their offers in order to be paired with her warmed her heart.

Breaks with him and the other regulars initially had her feeling like an intruder in a tight-knit clique. She was permanently on the watch for any hints of distaste directed towards her, harbouring an intense fear of being shunned and discarded. When she saw the way Seijuro interacted with his teammates, light-hearted and warm, she gradually opened up to them just as he had done, and they embraced her with open arms.

"Eru-chin?" A packet of her favourite strawberry pocky was extended towards her.

"Eh, Murasakibara-cchi! How come you're sharing with Eru-cchi? You never let me have any!"

"Oi Kise, it's your fault Nanase isn't irritating like you." Aomine Daiki certainly had a way with words. At their childish banter, Seijuro caught her eye before letting out an amused snort.

Events did not have to be extravagant or a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence to be remembered. Sometimes, it was the routinely occurrences – the way Murasakibara refused to share his food with anyone but her, or how Aomine had a perpetual frown that occasionally slipped to reveal a brilliant smile – that were truly captured in one's mind forever.

* * *

She had first noticed Seijuro's slight shifts in moods when she had spoken rather discontentedly about Haizaki's unruly behaviour. His voice become a degree colder and there was an undoubtedly menacing aura surrounding him as he spoke of "removing" Haizaki from the team. She had quickly dismissed it as the result of a bad day, and decided against approaching Seijuro on that subject. That was in February.

By May, it was clear to her that his mood swings were becoming more and more prominent. It was beginning to look a lot less like mood swings, and more like he had a split personality. For the most part, he was still the reserved and kind person who exuded intelligence. But he was starting to frown upon people disobeying his orders – his eyes would adopt a cold gleam that sent shivers down his victims' spines.

Seijuro had yet to turn that calculating glare towards her, and that innate streak of selfishness within her prevented her from questioning his alternate nature. Eru decided to allow things to follow its natural course - shogi during breaks and club meetings in the afternoon. There was far too much to risk, especially since probing might instigate a change in their relationship. This was how things always were; this was how things should remain.


	5. a stifling summer

_stifling: the feeling of being constrained or oppressed; suffocating._

* * *

She was popular with the regulars; cynicism towards her competency or ability as a result of her petite size had long since morphed into an unlikely combination of respect and camaraderie. For Eru, the basketball club had gradually transformed from unfamiliar – even alien – territory, to a place that she could quite possibly consider her home.

Even as she listened to the squeaks of basketball shoes against the polished gym floor mingling with the sound of raucous laughter, she felt a peculiar peace, contrary to the cheerful chaos, settle upon her. The familiar petty arguments between Kise and Aomine, Midorima's amusing quirks, Murasakibara's refusal to share his snacks, the confusion that ensued when Kuroko disappeared – all these little indications that she had integrated into the little community that had inadvertently earned a place in her heart.

It might not have been much to anyone else, but it meant everything to her.

* * *

It was late afternoon when the door of the clubroom opened to admit Kuroko and Kise. Club had yet to start, but it was a strange sight nonetheless to see Eru fast asleep on her stack of incomplete homework.

"Eru-cchi!" Kise called loudly, in his haste to tell her about his eventful day. "Why're you sleeping!"

"Kise-kun, please keep quiet." Blunt as always, Kuroko sensed that Eru rather needed her sleep more than Kise realised. But it was already too late, and Eru had already sluggishly pushed herself back into a sitting position.

"Eru-cchi! Today was so hard, I had world history in the morning and I got scolded for falling asleep." Still disoriented from having been woken up abruptly, Eru stared blankly at Kise, her head tilted slightly in confusion.

"Eru-cchi you're so cute!" Kise reached forward to gently pull at her cheeks. "They're so chubby!"

"Kise-kun, that's hardly appropriate." Kuroko let out a sigh at Kise's antics, just as the latter made as if to hug Eru; really sometimes he wondered why Akashi had put the aforementioned in his care.

"Kuroko-cchi you're always so mean to me," Kise mumbled in dismay, as he settled down contritely on a chair next to Eru's. He smiled winningly in Eru's direction, and she could not help but flash a tired one in return. Her days would be far more dull if she lacked the constant energy and carefree glee of the first string. Some might describe these repeated disturbances as frustrating or annoying, but she could not have asked for anything better.

* * *

Seijuro noticed that it was becoming the norm that Eru fell asleep during club sessions. It was not uncommon for him to walk in on her slumped over her documents, oblivious to the world. With the growing frequency of these occurrences, he supposed that her situation – whatever it may be – was deteriorating.

It was Thursday when he noticed that Eru's right arm had been hovering protectively over her left one; her bangs seemed to cover more of her forehead than usual; her breath seemed more laboured. They had locked up the club room in the late evening, and the sky was darkening rapidly; the last visible fraction of the sun cast long shadows across the courtyard of Teiko.

As they entered the train station, Seijuro noticed the train that they were boarding would be leaving in a minute. He broke into a sprint, almost forgetting about his companion. It was clear that she could not walk briskly, let alone run, in her current condition. His hand inadvertently reached out for hers, and he gently encouraged her to quicken her pace. The small smile that lit up her eyes spoke the words she never said.

The train ride was spent in relative silence. For all his intellect, Seijuro always had difficultly starting conversations, especially with Eru. There was something about her withdrawn nature that made him hold back more; almost as though he was afraid of accidentally striking a nerve. He did not know how to react when he felt Eru's head rest on his shoulder. Perhaps he should feel gratified that she trusted him that much; perhaps he should feel uncomfortable due to the proximity. But he was not sure if he was supposed to feel the surge of warmness that enveloped him.

"I'll walk you home." Her immediate reluctance was no match for his quiet insistence. Factoring in her unsteady gait and exhaustion, Eru's journey home would be dangerous at such an hour. It was an ideal situation for him to be introduced to her circumstance at home. It was not manipulation, he reasoned; it was simply taking advantage of matter.

Frankly, Seijuro did not foresee her being so wealthy. The Italian villa was separated into three sections: the main area and two wings (one of which existed as a garage and stable) which extended towards the main gate; it was rather reminiscent of St. Peter's Square. As Eru led him through the side entrance, they were greeted by a courtyard rivalling his own in magnificence, complete with a small artificial waterfall. Though typically filled with a unique array of flora, the arrival of summer heralded the end of the enchanting display. By the time summer hit its peak, what was once mesmerising would be no longer.

As she led him towards the front porch, he could not help but notice her pace slowing down considerably. Initially attributing it to her injuries and exhaustion, he paid no attention to the slight change of speed until she paused at her doorstep before turning to him.

"Thank you for walking me home." Her tone was firm, almost as though she was requesting for him to take his leave.

"I would like to see you into your home to make sure you are safe." Seijuro lifted an arm to press the doorbell, but it was pushed aside by Eru. The gentle smile on her face was replaced by fear, as she shook her head adamantly.

"I'm not about to get hurt at my own doorstep, Seijuro." He did not miss how Eru's voice cracked slightly towards the end, even as she attempted to inject humour into the conversation. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly at her insistence.

"Don't you trust me?" At his words, Eru's face paled instantly and her gaze shifted to her feet. "I'm here for you, remember?" The steadiness of his words settled over her, shrouding her with warmth.

Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes as she nodded, "I know." And he knew that she was pushing him away from her once again.

* * *

He was unable to catch a glimpse of her house's other occupants in the end, and it was with an air of regret that he made his way back to his own manor.

The cool, crisp air was a welcome change in summer, as was the dark sky littered with glinting stars. Seijuro always found it far more conducive to think at night, perhaps due to the nature of the darkness, which surrounded but did not suffocate. It was hardly easy being controlled with an iron fist all the time, but naturally, being of such high social and intellectual status _must_ have its drawbacks. Either that or the gods were simply being unfair, he thought wryly.

The grand courtyard was filled with fragrance that never really filled him with joy anymore. Because flowers are ephemeral; they fade ever so quickly, showing that beauty cannot possible last forever. But they were also so replaceable - new flowers will always bloom to replace dead ones - because you cannot tell one apart from another. And the transience of life is never something to be taken lightly, because the fleeting nature of flowers can be reflected in people as well.

His father was not home - not that Seijuro actually expected him to be. Hoped maybe, but never expected. Sometimes he wondered if the house would feel any warmer if the only parental figure left in his life was actually physically present as well.

* * *

She heaved a sigh of utmost relief upon realising that her home was empty, save for the hired help. Eru removed her shoes carefully before addressing her butler, "Hayato, when will they be home?"

"They'll only be back on Saturday afternoon, Nanase-san. You have almost two whole days to yourself." She did not miss the underlying meaning: _You'll be safe for a couple more days._

The grand staircase seemed infinitely longer when her feet were heavy with exhaustion. Soft carpets muffled the sound of her footsteps as Eru sluggishly made her way to her room. Her school bag fell to the ground with a dull thud, and her knees instantly gave way, bringing the rest of her body down with it. And she remained on the ground, unmoving and motionless, because every fibre in her body was aching with emotional pain and distress, and her body simply refused to comply with her commands.

Moments like this – when she was overcome with weakness – were moments she feared the most. Because fragility showed vulnerability, and vulnerability meant pain, hurt, betrayal and nothing good. And such visceral emotions would be worthless except as nightmares, haunting her, with no desire to let go. As soon as the wave of weakness washed over her, she rose purposefully to retrieve her homework from her bag.

School was the one place that she felt safe, and that was why she channelled so much energy into it. Because it was an incredibly effective distraction, and anything was worth it if it meant that she forgot about herself and everything else for even a moment. By the time she finished everything, it was nearly midnight, and she finally allowed herself to fall asleep.

* * *

He desperately wanted – _needed_ – answers now. Something about the way everything was slowly converging together, but with no definite closure, made him infinitely more curious about how it would eventually culminate. Seijuro's patience was wearing thin, and that morning was as good a day as any.

He could already see her approaching from a distance, her face buried in a novel as usual. If he observed her for long enough, he realised that something about her aura had shifted a great deal in the time that they had known each other. While she used to be unassuming and meek, now she was submissive and even _afraid_ ; her gentle smiles did not come so easily anymore either.

"Hey," she said, tucking a stray brown curl behind her ear.

"We need to talk later." He said immediately. "Please." She flinched noticeably, averting her gaze, and he instantly regretted his cutting tone.

"Why?" The tremor in her voice was noticeable, even though she fought to keep her expression neutral.

"We can talk about it later." Seijuro did not even know why he sounded so cold, but the flicker of hurt crossing her expression made him realise how deeply his words had affected her.

"Okay, I-I guess I'll head off first." Eru turned away quickly, leaving him behind at the school gate. A part of him thought that he should be chasing after her, but he did not move.

* * *

She really could not figure out what had happened. One moment Seijuro was sweet and considerate, and _suddenly_... Eru almost shuddered as she recalled the cold, calculating gaze that had been directed towards her – he had never, _never_ looked at her like that before. It was almost as if there were tiny, almost unnoticeable slips in his character. But there were greater concerns at this point. The first, most pressing issue was the fact that Seijuro was definitely going to demand answers from her later, and she was not quite sure if she was ready to tell him.

When had he become so forceful anyway?

She shook her head in a futile attempt to rid herself of unhelpful thoughts, and continued to weave through the throng of people blocking the way to the locker room. As she down to change her shoes, Eru realised dimly that she could not possibly avoid Seijuro until school ended; they were in the same class _and_ she always sat with him and the rest of the basketball team during break. She could have groaned at her own stupidity. What had even crossed her mind when she left without him?

Fortunately – or perhaps not – Eru somehow managed to avoid him for the greater part of the day. Of course, that hardly changed the fact that she had to meet him as soon as school ended, but it did help her to avoid thinking about him.

When the bell rang to signal the end of the school day, Eru felt a wave of panic rising in her. She tried to pack her belongings as slowly as possible, but she was finished all too quickly. Gathering up her books, she allowed a sigh of resignation to escape her lips; she didn't feel quite ready to tell Seijuro everything – _especially not this Seijuro._ His chilling gaze as he demanded the meeting remained etched in her memory, making her even more reluctant to meet him.

The classroom door opened and _he_ walked in. "Eru, I was wondering why you were taking so long." The door closed with barely any sound, but that didn't do much to calm to rapid beating of her heart. She looked up at him, studying his eyes carefully; there didn't seem to be the same coldness in it, but she couldn't quite see the warmth anymore.

"You wanted to speak to me?" she asked apprehensively, and she could _feel_ the pace of her heart speeding up.

"Yes," Seijuro replied, straight to the point as ever. The slight, comforting smile that usually dominated his expression was gone, replaced by one that was almost appraising her. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribcage, and it felt as if her chest was constricting just from the anxiety she felt. Seijuro was her best friend, but the fear that pervaded her senses left no room for disputes.

"Have you been feeling all right recently?" There was a momentary pause, and then she was flooded with relief. All the fear that had been intensified in the last few seconds instantly dissipated. Perhaps it had always been a false perception, but she sensed the coldness that was in his expression before melt away to reveal the compassion she had grown accustomed to. It was a question that she was confident of answering, and it gave her a chance to make things right again.

"I'm fine," and she refused to let the tears building up betray her words.

* * *

 **A/N: hi, so sorry for the slight delay in updates; unfortunately it will only get worse from here because I'm tied down with quite a lot of school work #iblife hope this is enjoyable to read nonetheless!**


	6. an acrid autumn

_acrid: unpleasantly bitter or sharp in taste or odour; caustic._

* * *

August had arrived and the Nationals were approaching quickly. The cool autumn weather had already set in, pushing aside the blistering hot sun in favour of gentle breezes. Eru supposed her favourite part of fall was when the leaves started to change their colour, when the uniform green slowly transitioned into magnificent shades of yellow, orange, red and brown. It reminded her of how transient life was, and how important it was to appreciate the little moments of joy she experienced.

She thought that Teiko, too, looked best in the fall. The tall trees that lined the walls and dotted the courtyard seemed more alive with their vibrant hues, than they ever did in the springtime. On peaceful days such as this, she preferred to spend her lunch break in the open air, away from the disorienting noise of the cafeteria. In the still autumn air, amidst the low humming of birds in the distance and gentle rustling of leaves, Eru closed her eyes and allowed a wave of contentment to wash over her.

A soft crunch by her side alerted her to the fact that someone had joined her. Then, his familiar voice broke the silence, "I thought you'd be here."

She tilted her head towards his and a smile blossomed on her face. "I guess you know me too well, Seijuro."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence – the kind where there was no expectations of anyone to force a conversation, the kind that made her truly appreciate his presence and companionship. He alone had an uncanny way of being able to relate to her.

* * *

With the Nationals drawing closer, training was taking place with even more gruelling intensity. Kuroko had long since become an integral part of the first string, whose core players were gradually being acknowledged as the _Generation of Miracles_ – an overtly fancy and intimidating name for a group of such harmless, fun-loving boys. Nearly two years of close observation alongside the sharp, knowledgeable Momoi meant that she was able to see the stark difference in their abilities, especially when compared to the other members of the basketball team.

"They're strong," commented Momoi once, "Perhaps too strong for their own good." And they certainly were, surpassing themselves each day, constantly developing new abilities and techniques that no ordinary player could rival. Eru could not help but feel proud of their progress.

Like most other days, the indoor basketball court was filled with the sound of shoes squeaking against the polished floor, and balls drumming against the ground. It was a constant for her; much like how she was certain that the sun would always rise from the east, she associated basketball with a certain soothing calm that would continue to reassure her, even when everything else was awry. Seijuro's voice rang clear throughout the court, and it crossed her mind that basketball practice was one of the rare moments that she could see him enjoy himself thoroughly. Pressure was put on him to excel in every area of his life, but the one thing that Seijuro genuinely _wanted_ to give his all to was basketball.

Nijimura was seated next to her on the bench, scrutinising the ongoing friendly match amongst the first string members. His normally placid expression looked unusually troubled, and Eru wondered briefly if he was afraid of how quickly the Generation of Miracles were advancing. Perhaps he feared that they would surpass him, and he would lose their respect. She wasn't inclined to believe so: Nijimura Shuzo had a way of making even Haizaki listen to him. She tried to ignore the nagging doubts that had crept forward from the back of her mind and focussed instead on the clipboard in front of her.

As the manager she had to pay close attention to their game-play, as well as coordinate practice matches with other schools. Momoi was far better at analysing the players individually and assessing their abilities – profiling them, or so she said – while she preferred to understand inter-player dynamics to determine their strengths and limitations. It seemed that Kuroko's arrival had singlehandedly improved the element of teamwork, shifting the team in the direction of encouraging bold passes and greater trust in one another. From Kise's indignant cries, to Midorima's derisive grunts, to Murasakibara's complaints of hunger, and of course, Aomine's crass, but genuine happiness, it was clear that Kuroko shone like a brilliant light on the team, rather than the shadow he insisted that he was. With less than a month to the Nationals, Eru thought the team had never been more complete.

It was nearing seven o'clock when the coach called everyone to gather for an important announcement. Brushing the droplets of sweat off his face, Seijuro made his way towards her. The bottle of water she offered him was received with gratitude, and they both waited patiently for the coach to speak.

"Listen up, everyone! There will be a few changes to the team before we enter the Nationals. As you all should know by now, Kuroko has been made a starting member. More importantly, Nijimura will be stepping down from his position as captain." There was a brief moment of stunned silence before the first string erupted in a chorus of confused chatter.

"Shouldn't he stay till the end of the season?"

"Let him stay!"

"The decision was made by me," interjected Nijimura, "Akashi-kun will being taking over me."

* * *

The first, most noticeable change was the announcement of Haizaki Shogo's decision to quit the team. This was met with a variation of indifference and even some semblance of relief. Eru guessed Seijuro had a part to play in that, judging from his less than positive impression of Haizaki's antics. The intensity of training increased too, and she could distinctly recall Aomine's impressive array of cuss words when Seijuro presented the training schedule in lieu of the Nationals. He genuinely believed in the importance of diligence and hard work, and she hoped that they would be rewarded for their efforts.

Seated on the broad wooden bench in the indoor court, Eru leaned back against the wall and observed the boys' workout routine; her mathematics homework lay untouched on her lap. It was one of those inexplicable moments when she felt overwhelmed by exhaustion, and the consequences of her sleepless nights weighed down on her. While she desperately wanted to be actively involved in the practices, she knew that she had to spend this time catching up on her work, so that she wouldn't have to worry about it when she reached home – not that it really was a home at all. The ambient noise was becoming distracting, and she pushed aside her initial intention to complete the practice test; it was unlikely that she would be able to complete it at any rate.

Eru inadvertently thought back to Momoi's offhand comment about the boys' unprecedented talent just a few weeks ago; she could only hope that it wouldn't severely affect their team's dynamics. Seijuros' calm voice pierced through her thoughts. It dominated the court, and the other members listened to his words with rapt attention. It never ceased to amaze her – the extent of the respect that he commanded from them, even with such minimal effort. The first string inherently trusted his advice and his orders, enough so that they would put aside their pride long enough to obey their captain. She supposed it was best not to dwell on such negative thoughts. After all, if the radiant smiles on their faces were any indication at all, this team would go far.

* * *

The day of the National play-offs dawned, with arguably the best autumn weather thus far. The sky was clear for the first time in weeks; the clouds had parted to reveal the brilliant blue skies that it usually concealed, and a gentle breeze interrupted the otherwise still air. They had already made it through the district preliminaries, easily claiming one of two spots that would advance to the playoffs.

The team arrived at the steps of tournament stadium feeling prepared. Momoi had already briefed them on the bus ride to the stadium. Even as they entered the court to face their very first opponents, there was an air of confidence about them, a combination of their relentless efforts and unrivalled ability. Midorima clutched a small terrarium in his hands – the lucky item for cancers that day, according to Oha-Asa – his face a mask of grim determination. Other than that, there was a strange but serene calm that descended over the Generation of Miracles. Aomine remained as laid-back as always, any doubt towards the outcome of the match instantly overcome but his excitement to play his favourite sport.

"We have worked hard to reach where we are now; may our efforts continue to reward us in the matches ahead."

"Yes, Akashi-kun. Let's do our best."

"Relax Tetsu," drawled Aomine, "Light and shadow, remember?"

How peculiar that such a familiar exchange could bring a smile to her lips so quickly. Perhaps it was from the sheer simplicity of the conversation, or the strong evidence of camaraderie between them all, but she took joy in those things regardless.

* * *

From the perspective of the enemy team, at least, the situation was appearing more and more bleak. While other teams struggled to assert any form of dominance over the enemy team, the _Generation of Miracles_ swept victory after victory, easily securing at least forty points more than their opponents by the time the final whistle was blown. Momoi was overjoyed at the victories and was openly eager to witness Teiko emerging the victors of the Nationals for the second consecutive year.

To Eru, the playoffs had gone wrong in the worst possible way. Between Momoi and herself, she had always been the one more aware of the team's dynamics, and she could sense something shifting in the duration of the Nationals. Much like how the month of September had arrived with cloudy skies and chilly winds, the team appeared to grow more distant; reliance on Kuroko's superb passing skills had somehow transformed into a matter of personal pride – an unspoken battle of who could score the most number of points. With every passing match, Eru could sense Aomine's growing disillusionment towards the sport – that much at least was practically written across his face.

Still, she held on to hope, believing staunchly that the situation would eventually rectify itself. That was until she witnessed the cruel way that Aomine rejected Kuroko's fist bump. In a strange way, that singular event permanently altered the course of the team for better or for worse.

* * *

The day after Teiko had won the Nationals, Seijuro found himself in the clubroom before practice, uncertain as to how he ought to move his team forward. As much as he hated to admit it, Nijimura would definitely know what to do in his position – at least, more than he did at that point. Autumn had never seemed more acrid to Seijuro, as if there was something foul and bitter-tasting lingering on the tip of his tongue whenever he breathed. He cared deeply for his teammates, and he too could sense that something significant had gone wrong, enough to evoke this level of doubt in him. Unwittingly, Seijuro let a bitter laugh escape his lips.

"Seijuro," a soft voice called him from his musings. Even as she stood at the doorway, he could distinctly see his exact fears reflected on her face. Inclining her head towards him slightly, her eyes expressed the unasked question hanging tensely between them. _What happens now?_

"I suppose we will simply have to wait and see."

He found himself afraid of answering her directly; what if he was wrong? He couldn't afford to make the wrong decision, he couldn't afford to bring his team down, and he _definitely_ couldn't afford to disappoint his father. The gentle hand that found its way to his shoulder felt far too forgiving, almost as if she was subtly reassuring him; he didn't deserve that, not if his team was in shambles with him as the captain. Still, he didn't move away, secretly finding solace in her touch, afraid that he would eventually drive this relationship to ruins as well.

* * *

When she entered the basketball court just as practice began, Eru could immediately sense an almost-tangible tension that layered the atmosphere; it was something simmering just beneath the surface, as if everyone had something they desperately needed to say, but couldn't yet. While Midorima, Kuroko and Kise practised as they normally did, the attitudes of Murasakibara and Aomine seemed to have undergone a drastic change for worse in just a couple of days after the Nationals. The latter spun a basketball listlessly around his finger – a picture of utter disinterest and discontentment; Eru didn't think she had ever seen him respond with anything other than genuine elation towards basketball. After half an hour, he exited the gym on the pretext of going to the washroom. He never returned.

"Where did Aomine go?" Her eyes softened at the stress layering Seijuro's frustrated words. "He should be coming to practice."

"There's no point in any of us coming anyway, Aka-chin," Murasakibara replied unexpectedly, "We're good enough already." At that, Eru was suddenly aware of Seijuro's immense effort to bite back his instinctive rebuttal; his sharp eyes narrowed marginally and she momentarily saw a menacing look cross his expression. Then it was gone, and she found herself questioning if it really happened at all.

"We have to train as a team regardless, Murasakibara. Whatever the case may be, basketball is meant to be played as a coherent whole."

"We don't need to work together if we win anyway," Murasakibara insisted sulkily, "I don't wanna practise either."

"Don't be ridiculous, I can't possibly allow that."

"I don't feel like I'm gonna lose," he said, "I only listened to you because I thought you were better. I don't think that's the case now." Seijuro tensed as Murasakibara continued, "I won't listen to someone weaker than me."

Momoi's loud gasp was quickly dismissed, as Seijuro declared a one-on-one against Murasakibara. The latter readily accepted his challenge, confident in his superior abilities. When Seijuro was only one point away from a dismal defeat, the voice at the back of her mind called her to intervene, but she felt something holding her back.

By the time Seijuro emerged victorious over Murasakibara, it was already too late.

 **A/N: sorry, the first month of school has been rather busy as of late; hope to find more time during the weekend to write though! I kind of glossed over the one-on-one because I didn't really think that the details were necessary. personally, I find the depiction of akashi before and after a lot more important, so I focussed on the _before_ here and the _after_ will be done subsequently:")) **


	7. solemness of spring

_solemness: dignified seriousness; possessing an air of gravity._

* * *

By the time winter break ended, Eru had yet to gather up enough courage to confront Seijuro. She supposed that there was something fundamentally terrifying about confronting your closest friend. For someone who struggled so hard to approach others, she wasn't at all inclined to risk losing him. In her heart, he remained on a pedestal far above everyone else; he was the kind of special that she reckoned she wouldn't ever have the fortune of encountering again.

The spring breeze rustled through her brown curls as she waited patiently by the front entrance of the campus. In the first few days since the term had begun, the weather had been especially conducive for easing her back into the mundane routine of school life. The harsh winds and chilly air of winter had died down, making way for the growth of flora and emergence of wildlife once more. Already, the grass was gradually coating the ground where it was once covered in snow, and the birds were building their nests in preparation for the mating season. Even as the wave of peace washed over her, she noticed a familiar head of crimson hair headed in her direction. Unbeknownst to her, a smile had instantly crossed her face.

"Seijuro," she greeted, as he approached her. "Let's go."

The brief, curt nod that was directed to her was already becoming a familiar response. The difference in his gait was also clear: while he had always possessed an air of confidence, now it seemed closer to arrogance than anything. From the match against Murasakibara after the Nationals, Seijuro's eyes had permanently adopted a cold, hardened glint; his once gentle smile was replaced by the makings of a superior smirk, and his comforting voice had a cutting tone beneath.

Of course, the degree of change was not so prominent with her than it was with their other schoolmates. The respect that he held them with before had vanished, leaving a strangely condescending form of approval when he surveyed their success – as if it could all be attributed to him. It was especially obvious when she saw his interactions with Kuroko; the camaraderie that had formed over a mutual care and passion for the team seemed to have dissipated, only to leave behind a mere shell of what it used to be.

His fingers brushed lightly against hers; it was something that had become increasingly common due to their proximity, almost as if there was a force between them that made her inadvertently gravitate towards him. While the new him felt rather like winter – icy and distant, sometimes to the point that it was unbearable – the heat from his fingertips reminded her of the warmth that lingered beneath his cold exterior. Seijuro's touch always sent inexplicable tingles down her spine, as if her body was actively trying to signal the connection to him. When his eyes met hers, they softened imperceptibly, and she could almost see the ice cracking to reveal the gentle beauty that lay within – the Seijuro she knew.

* * *

Sometimes, in the rare moments that he allowed his mind to drift aimlessly, Seijuro found himself inadvertently thinking of Eru. It _was_ rather inconvenient at times, and it definitely did little to help his efficiency; but in those short-lived instances, he felt the warmth that only she had ever been able to make him feel so intensely. He supposed he did not really feel significantly different from before, even if his outward treatment of others and management of people differed greatly. At the end of the day, it was as his father said. Victory would always be the most important, and he guessed he did not have much of a choice other than to win.

"You should smile more," her voice interrupted his thought process, "I like you better with a smile on your face." The sincerity in her request nearly caught him off-guard, and the small smile on his face widened despite himself. The answering mirth that tinged her expression was worth it all.

When he was with her, it was like he had already won.

* * *

The sky was darkening when Seijuro dismissed the first string from practice. It was particularly gruelling session, with the same kind of fierce intensity that had slowly started to edge into their practices ever since the Nationals. Aomine had failed to turn up ever since they had emerged victorious in the Nationals; Murasakibara had followed his lead. As their manager, she believed it to be her responsibility to encourage them to come regularly, but it seemed that even the goodwill established over two years of friendship was insufficient in persuading them.

Still, she was grateful for Midorima's commitment, Kise's enthusiasm, Kuroko's passion and of course, Seijuro's direction. Without them, the lack of enthusiasm would have taken over, and the first string would likely have dissolved by now. Moments like this, Eru questioned the priorities of the team and its toxic culture; while winning was certainly gratifying, surely it was not worth losing this level of camaraderie.

A small sigh escaped her lips as she pushed open the door to the clubroom. It was dark, save for the dim glow of the perimeter lights filtering through the window. Seijuro had not yet returned to retrieve his belongings, presumably because he was caught up with the rest of the teammates. It wasn't the first time it happened, and it was slowly becoming the norm. Ever since the inexplicable, drastic shift in his character, he had become more controlling, and his recent behavioural patterns seemed to suggest that he found it necessary to make sure that he knew exactly what each member was doing before he could take his leave. She hurriedly arranged the stray sheets of paper and straightened up the room, before retrieving both of their school bags and locking the door behind her.

There was a faint light still emanating from the gym, just as she had expected, and she quickened her footsteps in hope that she could still offer some help. As she neared the entrance, she heard a familiar impassive voice speaking indistinctly, before Seijuro's confident voice cut through it.

"I have not changed at all. There were two of me to begin with. It was merely a swap between us."

There was silence between Kuroko and Seijuro, and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine at the coldness of his words. Although she had seen the shift in his personality quite clearly, she never thought it was something acknowledged – or even as deliberate as he made it sound. She heard the sound of footsteps approaching, before emerged briskly from the gym.

"Let's go back Eru. I apologise if I kept you waiting for long." He reached out for his belongings and motioned for her to follow behind. She remained one step behind him for the entire journey.

* * *

She had waited eagerly for the cherry blossoms all winter, and her patience was rewarded by the first sightings of pink petals early that morning. Like most days, she made sure to leave the house before either of her parents awoke. The quaint café that she frequented for breakfast was already alive with the tantalising scent of freshly-baked bread and ground coffee beans. After she made her purchases – a latte and a slice of thick buttered-toast – she settled down in a corner of the room and allowed herself to relax.

In these little pockets of peace and quiet, she couldn't help but allow her mind to drift to him. She supposed this stemmed from her worry for him and his mental well-being, not so much anything else in particular. On the bright side, it proved to be a good distraction from alternative trains of thought; worrying about him was far better than worrying about herself.

Taking the final bite of the warm toast, Eru briskly dusted the crumbs off her skirt and exited the café. The walk to Teiko was one she always enjoyed, more so now that the vibrant beginnings of cherry blossoms could be seen. The gentle spring breeze ruffled her dark hair lightly, carrying the fragrant aroma of the blooming flowers and filling the air with a pleasant scent. She could almost feel the tension leave her shoulders as she moved further from her home; school had felt like an escape ever since her parents became _difficult_ to deal with. A tiny smile graced her lips, _that could very well have been the greatest understatement of her life._

From a distance, she could already see Seijuro waiting patiently by the school gates for her arrival. The warm smile that she once found familiar was now tinged with a layer of ice. Still, an uncontained grin spread across her face, and she could not explain the rush of warmth as she quickened her footsteps towards him. In that moment, she simply _knew_.

The thing about falling someone was that it was not an explicit, immediate sensation, but a gradual understanding that you _were_ falling. When you fell for best friend, there was still the odd rush of anticipation and excitement, but it was balanced by a unique peace that was established by two closely-connected individuals. And, perhaps that was how it was between herself and Seijuro – two connected people sharing a mutual understanding that was built on love and care.

She stood in front of him and felt the warmth when his fingers reached out towards hers and he pulled her into an unexpected hug. How paradoxical; maybe being with him like this simply showed how nothing had changed, even when everything had.

* * *

To Seijuro, nothing had really changed. He still cared for his team, just in a different way; the things he said _were_ things he sometimes felt even before. After all, there had always been two of him, and it was simply a swap.

The team was stronger than ever, even if Atsushi and Daiki had stopped attending practice regularly. With their amount of raw talent and natural ability, being able to coordinate and work well together was secondary, especially if it could potentially compromise their individual skills. He had groomed the Generation of Miracles to their current level, and he was certainly not about to allow petty things like teamwork to come in the way of their victory.

Winning was everything, after all.

* * *

His attitude towards her did not deviate entirely from the norm. She supposed that he was distinctly different from the patient gentleman he was before, but there were moments that she noticed slivers of his old self in the way that he treated her. It was terrifying all the same, especially when she felt sudden bouts of coldness exuding from him; it was the kind of chill that permeated her heart and made its home there, a constant reminder that he was hardly the same person as he was before. But, just like winter, she hoped that gradually acclimatising herself to the iciness would eventually allow her to appreciate the subtle beauty that came with who Seijuro had become. It was just a matter of time before it all became clear, it _had_ to be.

* * *

Like most spring afternoons, the sky was painted a brilliant blue with only a few thin streaks of clouds interrupting the wide expanse. Eru rested her arms on the classroom's windowsill, enjoying the unique peace that could only be felt at certain points in the year – when the flowers released their fragrance, and the students had long filtered out of the school gates, and all was silent except for the quiet rustling of curtains against the window. She had stayed back to complete her assignments while waiting for Seijuro to consult the basketball club's advisor regarding the status of the team; he had told her that she was not necessary – perhaps more tactfully, but the message was clear. A soft sigh escaped her lips and was immediately lost in the serenity found outside the window.

"Eru, let's go home," he called out, and she was almost taken aback by the gentleness in his voice that simultaneously felt familiar, yet totally alien. He stood smiling by the doorway, and in that moment, she almost fooled herself into believing that everything had reverted to normal. If she were to be completely honest with herself, sometimes she was unsure if these situations made her feel worse – to be faced with the constant reminder of his past self, before she was forced to confront the bitter reality as soon as the moment passed. She hated the surge of hope that coursed through her when she pictured his genuine smile and his gentleness towards her.

Lightly, he touched her arm, before offering to take her belongings. When her gaze met his, she found no trace of the iciness that she had grown accustomed to. Sometimes she thought that the only times a glimpse of his old self emerged was when he was together with her.

"I'll walk you back." He turned and held the door open for her to walk past him. This time, they walked side by side the whole way home.

* * *

 **A/N: to be honest, I'm complete trash because it has been such a long while since I last updated. I guess part of me didn't really have the mood to write because I had a lot of school-related essays to complete, but I hope that this chapter is to your liking nonetheless! Will always appreciate feedback :-)**


	8. saturation of summer

_saturation: to a full extent, often beyond the point regarded as desirable._

* * *

Spring had gradually phased into summer, and the clouds had slowly cleared to reveal the vast splendour of the azure blue skies. The sun was scorching, but in an almost pleasant way, violently seizing control of the temperature. Naturally, the day was lethargic and slow-paced, seemingly cloudless with an afternoon that appeared to promise good, sunny weather.

The weather forecast had failed her again, predicting clear skies with the possibility of a drizzle. _This was hardly a drizzle_ , she reflected bitterly, feeling heavy droplets of rain land squarely in her brown hair. Clutching her books tightly, Eru braced the pouring rain. Of all days that she had forgotten to bring her umbrella, it _had_ to be on the day that it actually rained. By the time she reached the front porch, her uniform stuck onto her like a second skin, and water dripped steadily from her hair; it served as an unwanted reminder of the treacherous storm.

After multiple attempts to squeeze her uniform dry, Eru gingerly pushed the door open. Without warning, the door was wrenched from her grasp, causing her to stumble forward.

"You're late and you've managed to make the floor filthy." A sneer twisted her mother's lips in a grotesque way, "Stupid girl, why did I even bother to raise you?" The cutting remarks were accompanied by three slaps in quick succession, and the sound of impact resonated throughout the hallway. Eru remained standing with her head lowered, an apology hanging from her lips and unshed tears stinging her eyes. Her body was tense, bracing herself for more blows, but they did not come. Somewhere further away, her mother's footsteps echoed and a door was slammed roughly.

All around her, the air seemed to ring with a relentless intensity, both unnervingly silent and unbearably deafening at the same time. Her entire body felt weak, and the knees that had been holding her upright the entire time seemed to give way unannounced. She sunk to the floor, feeling her body shudder with a strange chill – the kind that permeated the skin and pervaded the senses. Then, the tears that she had been holding back forced their way down her cheeks, and she allowed herself to cry. If only for just a moment.

* * *

She awoke before the first rays of light crept through the curtains, her normal routine interrupted by the new need to conceal the marks on her face. All things considered, the slaps had not been as bad as certain other occasions, although the intensity had definitely left bruises on her pale skin, if the lingering sting was any indication. Her reflection in the mirror looked drawn and tired, far worse than it had been just a few years ago – before she entered Teiko. Gingerly, she traced her finger along the outline of the bruise, wincing when the two came into contact.

The small amount of makeup that she owned were used for occasions like this: when her mother used too much violence and she was forced to wear the aftermath of the one-sided conflict on her face like taunting battlescars. She might even say that she had gotten rather good at applying it; a skill born out of necessity.

In her first year and a half in Teiko, she had needed to miss suspiciously numerous days of school on the premise of being unwell. In reality, those were times when the bruises and marks were far too difficult to conceal, and she had no choice but to conceal herself, lest Seijuro asked too many questions. Now, at least, she could better avoid his concerned gazes or inevitable questions.

* * *

As always, he waited patiently for her at the school gates. In summer, the sun hung dauntingly high even in the mornings, enveloping the surroundings with a perpetual warmth. Unfortunately, summers in Tokyo were never particularly pleasant; the humidity was often far too great to peacefully enjoy the heat, and it remained a source of endless complaints instead.

She arrived exactly on time, her uniform ruffling marginally in the almost imperceptible breeze. Beads of sweat lined her forehead but did nothing to dampen the brilliant smile on her face when her eyes rested on him. He reckoned that even the ferocity of summer could hardly compare to the radiance she exuded when she smiled at him.

Sometimes, when Seijuro watched her, he wondered if she was aware that he could see through her façade. The eyes that were once alive with a quiet joy had gradually dimmed to the state that they were in now – not exactly lifeless, but missing the subtle sparkly that danced invitingly in a corner.

* * *

As soon as her eyes fell onto his figure, she felt her steps grow lighter, almost as if his mere presence lightened the burden that she carried alone. She _lived_ for these moments: the times when it felt like it was just the two of them. Something about the way he carried himself was more casual, and the hardness in his eyes was not as prevalent. It was almost as if he was unwittingly forcing himself to live up to unspoken expectations of him – perhaps, in a way, they might even have been self-imposed.

The heat of the summer sun and the warmth of his crimson eyes went far in giving her an unexpected sense of peace; she almost forgot how Seijuro's eyes would often adopt a momentarily icy look, and how his stance would stiffen and his words would be cutting and cruel.

"Let's go," he said, but she could hear the command beneath his unassuming words. A little chill ran down her spine despite the humidity, but she brushed it aside; it was only temporary, after all. He walked alongside her, his left hand resting gently against her back as he guided her. Something in the way he held her closely and continuously caught her eye felt like protectiveness on his part.

Sometimes, she felt acutely aware of Seijuro's gaze on her, and she wondered if he saw through her façade. His piercing eyes seemed to consider her carefully before he cast a warm smile in her direction. It never failed to fill her with warmth, the kind that she never really experienced from anyone else. It was a good feeling – maybe even the _best_ feeling – and she never wanted it to end.

* * *

She sat patiently on the strategically-placed bench – far away from the threat of any stray basketball – diligently taking note of each player's strengths and weaknesses. With Seijuro's help, she needed to plan an updated training schedule in preparation for the upcoming summer holiday practices leading up to the end-of-the-year tournament. Two years of research and careful consideration had rendered her _almost_ an expert at analysing the movements of her team and the opponents.

"Eru-cchi!" called Kise enthusiastically, "Watch this!" He handled the ball with the grace and confidence of a seasoned veteran, casual and nonchalant, but still eager to impress any onlookers. Taking advantage of Kise's momentary lack of focus, Aomine swiftly stole the ball and scored.

"Focus on the game, Kise," barked Aomine, his face bearing a triumphant grin. Kise's eager smile transformed into an indignant pout.

"Enough of this behaviour and focus on the game," Seijuro directed a cold glare in their direction.

"What? But Akashi-cchi…"

"It's Kise's fault for trying to impress Nanase!"Aomine scowled.

"Aomine-cchi!" Kise's tone was affronted. "That's not true!"

"If both of you have enough energy to behave in such a childish manner, then it is clear that you don't have sufficient training. I will have no choice but to intensify it." The two cast accusatory glares at each other before turning back to the game. Kise's eyes narrowed; he would not lose to Aomine again. The almost-imperceptible playful glint in Seijuro's eye was not lost on her.

The outcome of the game was obvious: a sweeping victory on Aomine's part and yet another despondent loss for Kise. The former continued recited his arrogant mantra, ' _The only one who can beat me is me,'_ but Eru could not help but notice the fact that his voice had lost its initial contempt. After months, she had finally managed to persuade him to come for training every week, if not to sharpen his raw talent, then to spend time with people who he genuinely enjoyed the company of. A small step towards progress, perhaps, but it was a massive one towards fixing Aomine's attitude.

When training finally ended, the boys slowly filtered out of the gym. As usual, she was among the last to vacate, having to bear responsibility for both the members _and_ the gym. It had been a particularly exhausting day, and Eru was hardly anxious to return home. Recently, her mother had been in an especially foul mood, and naturally, any anger was directly instantly towards her. While she did try to linger around longer than was necessary, she only succeeded in delaying the inevitable. When all was said and done the only thing she could really do was hope desperately that she would emerge unscathed.

* * *

Saturday mornings always dawned with significantly more risk involved than normal school days. Although she forced herself to rise before her parents woke, there were occasions where she had miscalculated, only to be physically or mentally tormented for hours, before she finally managed to escape. It had become a routine for her to meet up with Seijuro on the weekends. He knew that she disliked staying at home, and she had only needed to ask him once before he had set aside all his weekends to keep her company.

Although it was still early, the sun hung high overhead, its warm rays blocked only by a thin, wispy layer of clouds. Even so, the weather was still infinitely better than it had been just a week before, and she was pleasantly surprised by the long-awaited breeze that did wonders to refresh her. Her body ached, and her cheeks still stung from the previous night. Her pastel-pink cardigan neatly concealed the beginnings of bruises along her arms, but she could do little to hide the slight limp when her right leg threatened to give way beneath her.

The door of the quaint café chimed softly as she gently pushed it open. She was instantly greeted with the warm, comforting aroma of ground coffee beans, mingled with the scent of freshly whipped cream and baked croissants; the tense muscles near her shoulders seemed to experience an inexplicable wave of relief. Although he was seated in a more inconspicuous corner, his crimson hair stood out amidst the crowd of other consumers; Seijuro's heterochromatic eyes flickered upwards to meet her gaze almost immediately, and an indescribable expression crossed his face.

"Seijuro! Hope I didn't keep you waiting long," Eru said apologetically, as she slipped into the cushioned seat opposite him.

"It is no matter," he replied briskly, "I have ordered for you." Seijuro motioned to mug of warm coffee in front of her – her preference on lazy mornings. Although he had perfected the order, it was completely unlike him to have ordered pre-emptively on her behalf. Something was amiss; it was almost as if this was his subtle way of asserting – or wresting – control over her. If that was the case, then her worst fears regarding the episode after the Nationals were confirmed.

For some reason, his demeanour lacked the familiar gentle ease it usually had. She could feel an unnatural tension building, and released a heavy sigh, before she smiled genially in his direction. Without realising it, she wrapped her hands around the mug, allowing its comfortable heat to soothe her nerves. _Why was she so nervous around Seijuro? Was this all in her head?_ She was reluctant to admit the drastic change in his character, but there seemed to be no other explanation.

"What would you like to do today?" Her shaky hands had been carefully raising the mug towards her mouth, just as he broke the silence, and she started, spilling the hot coffee onto Seijuro's outstretched arm. His eyes narrowed, and his lips twisted into an expression that she had never seen on him before: contempt. He used the nearby napkin to vigorously clean up the unfortunate coffee stains that stood out against his white dress-shirt. The next words that left his mouth were critical and accusatory, blaming her _intolerable failure_ on her _carelessness._ She opened her mouth as if to defend herself, before falling silent; _was there really anything she could say to make the situation better?_

He placed sufficient change on the table, before rising purposefully from his seat and striding out of the café. For ten minutes, she was too stunned to speak; never in the past three years of knowing him had he ever come close to treating her this way – in a manner that implied her inferiority and subservience to him. Still, his cruel and harsh treatment of her seemed almost instinctive, combined with the cutting words that easily left his lips. A stubborn tear rolled down her cheek, and she brushed it away roughly. The way he had treated her was admittedly inevitable; after all, the same condescending, chilling tone was frequently experienced by those in the basketball team who made the mistake of crossing him. But that did nothing to resolve the iciness that enveloped her heart, and the pervasive fear that Seijuro was pushing her away.

She took deep breaths to soothe the staccato pounding of her heart; gradually, it slowed down to a steady pace, enough for her to steady her hands and clear her mind. Her coffee was now lukewarm, and she hastened to finish it before it cooled down completely. Once it turned cold, it became difficult to remember the subtle joy and comfort it used to bring. Coffee was always best enjoyed when its warmth was tangible.

Head hung low, Eru exited the café as quietly as she had arrived, making sure to clear the two mugs first. The sun had sunk lower, and the clouds overhead had thickened to form a welcome protective layer, preventing excessive exposure to the unpleasant heat. A gust of fresh air caused the surrounding trees to sway slightly, their leaves creating a gentle rustling sound. It was already nearing the end of summer, and she could identify the tell-tale signs of autumn setting in: the changing colours of the flora, the dead leaves littering the ground that crunched beneath her footsteps.

The colder months were setting in. They would be bitter and relentless and cruel, but, beneath the harshness was a quiet, natural beauty that would only become apparent if given time for the ice to melt.

* * *

 **A/N: kinda metaphorical (hopefully), but the next update is probably going to take a while because my teacher awaits my extended essay for cross-marking :') any feedback will be appreciated because I lowkey need motivation**


	9. ambivalence of autumn

_ambivalence: the state of having simultaneous and contradictory attitudes or feelings regarding something or someone._

* * *

It was the beginning of fall, and the humid warmth of summer was gradually being replaced by the crisp, sweet air distinctive to autumn. By this time, most of the trees surrounding his mansion had taken on a reddish-brown hue. Too many leaves already littered the ground, covering the cobbled walkway; his hired help would have to deal with the next morning. Even though Seijuro was seated indoors, he could still feel the slight chill of the autumn night. The dining hall was empty and silent, save for the only occasionally clink of silverware against china. It had taken him years to grow accustomed to the unnatural coldness of a home without his mother around. It had taken him a few more to adjust to his father's lack of involvement in his life.

Reliance on others and desire for others – those had cost him far too many years of his life. They were inefficient, and had no purpose. He had invested so much into the first string, only for their attitudes to be immensely disappointing. Inefficiency was something he simply could not afford. Still, there was a lingering discontentment in his heart. Although he had grown convinced that Eru was an illogical endeavour, he had somehow failed to negate the desire for her presence. He had to focus, and Eru had always been a distraction.

The sound of confident, firm footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, and Seijuro looked up to see a familiar, but undesirable sight. His father had arrived home early from his business trip, and he was in a bad mood – likely a failed business endeavour. Face flushed and eyes narrowed, his father strode towards him, before setting his briefcase down roughly on the table next to him.

"I expect that you have maintained your class ranking while I was away." A typical greeting; after all, he rarely asked of anything else.

"Yes, father." It was a well-practised sentence. He had long since stopped responding thoughtfully to his father's words.

"I have heard of certain _things_ while I was away." He paused as if to allow his words to sink in. "You are still spending excessive amounts of time with the girl?" Seijuro remained silent, but continued to meet his father's gaze evenly.

"I warned you last month. Your priority _is_ your academics, and you will give up on anything that hinders your success; that includes basketball, and any irrelevant friendships that will be useless to you in the future." His father's cold eyes hardened at Seijuro's unresponsiveness. "Am I understood?"

He nodded ever-so-slightly, but it was already sufficient consent that would eventually be used against him. The well-maintained door closed noiselessly behind his father's angry footsteps. He turned his attention back to his tofu soup; it had already gone cold.

* * *

On days that Seijuro seemed particularly distant, Eru had taken to frequenting 3B – Midorima's form class. Admittedly, she had neglected him for the most part in their second year, being far too preoccupied with managing the team, dealing with her household problems, and of course, spending time with Seijuro. She had always been close to Midorima – second only to Seijuro – due to his reserved, logical demeanour that often had the unintended effect of allaying her fears. It was during those lazy afternoons spent playing shogi against him that she realised just how much she had missed his presence.

The patience Midorima treated her with, as well as the evident concern he expressed were strongly reminiscent of Seijuro's old attitude. She felt the heart constrict; Seijuro no longer waited at the entrance for her arrival, dismissing it as a waste of time that could be spent more wisely elsewhere. It was almost strange how the weather seemed to mirror his mood. The gradual descent into the colder months was not unlike the increasingly apparent chill she could feel every time she was around him. Sometimes, it was more obvious – when the first string was not up to standard, when he made even the slightest mistake in a test; others, she could almost fool herself into thinking that nothing had changed. Almost.

"Your move, Nanase," Midorima gazed at her expectantly. Judging from the way his eyes softened infinitesimally, she realised that she must have looked particularly flustered. The unnaturally strained silence between them was interrupted only by the soft clink as she captured Midorima's piece; even the air seemed strangely still.

"Do you think he'll go back to normal?" She blurted. She had done it – not just shattering the silence by laying her worst fear on the table, but also shattering any unwarranted peace of mind that came with avoiding problems. Embarrassed by her outburst, Eru averted her eyes away from his shrewd gaze, allowing her hair to fall forward like a curtain, covering her flushed cheeks. A brief, tense silence followed as Midorima considered her question.

"There _is_ a possibility. On occasion, there are glimpses of his past self," he began tactfully, afraid to confirm her fears but equally afraid of giving her unfounded hope. "But only when he is with you, and you cannot afford to be naïve enough to expect a change."

A wry smile crept onto Eru's face. Although his typically brutally honest answers had ultimately made their appearance, she did not miss his attempt at gentleness – it was endearing, really. While his words rang with truth, and she _would_ be naïve to believe otherwise, Midorima had neglected something extremely important: she had no choice _but_ to believe.

The game continued with little interruption, as they lapsed into a companionable silence. Unlike when she played with Seijuro, she stood a fair chance of beating Midorima – likely a result of the hours she had spent in the clubroom despairing about the former's inevitable victory. In fact, she might even say that most of the victories belonged to her.

By the time the other students had started filtering out of the classroom, and the autumn sun was beginning to set, the silence between them was dispelled by the decisive clack of a piece against the shogi board.

 _Checkmate._

But it wasn't her who won.

* * *

She was awoken from her slumber by a familiar touch. Rubbing the sleep slowly from her eyes, she looked up to see Seijuro's familiar piercing gaze focussed directly on her. Her pile of homework lay unfinished on the clubroom table, and she sheepishly attempted to conceal the blotches of ink where her pen had been pressed against the paper as she dozed off. A smile unwittingly crept onto her face at the sight of his hair – slightly dishevelled after the long school day – and the instinctive lightness she felt when he was near. Her lips parted, prepared to utter a warm greeting, only to be interrupted.

"Eru, go home now." The usual layer of concern beneath his words was replaced by a command. For a moment, she stared at him incredulously, tempted to retort, but the coldness in his expression chilled her enough for her to avert her eyes. With unrivalled briskness and purpose, Eru shoved her belongings into her bag, making sure to avoid eye contact with Seijuro. Although she would later insist defiantly that this was a result of anger, the truth burrowed its way deep into her heart: she was _terrified_ of seeing that expression again.

The strained silence between them hung like a dark cloud, as if trying actively to display the nearly-palpable tension, but shrouding the more important things in between. Slipping her bag onto her shoulders, Eru brushed past him and pulled open the door. Without casting a final glance at Seijuro, she slipped through the door, before finally allowing her tears to trail down her cheeks.

* * *

He wondered what compelled him to say the words in such a cutting manner. The moment when hurt flashed across her face replayed itself in his mind, and felt a pang in his chest upon the realisation that _he_ had caused it. His face remained an impassive mask even as the door shut with a definite click.

To him, it was almost a constant struggle – between heart and mind, emotion and logic, desire and obligation. Every so often, he would stand at that crossroad, forced to decide between one or the other in order to move on. Two options that he had from the beginning, both of which he was equally willing to choose or sacrifice. And, for the longest time, he had decided to prioritise his heart; after all, his mother had reinforced that victory was inconsequential, if attained without love. After his one-on-one against Murasakibara, it was as if his mindset had experienced a drastic switch. Contrary to popular belief, this was not a by-product of coercion, rather, a subconscious decision on his part spurred by the prospect of failure.

Seijuro tried not to regret past decisions. Far too often, that particular emotion hindered logical processing and rational thinking with little result, save for the occasional bout of self-directed anger. He slumped into the chair previously occupied by Eru, and applied pressure on his temples using the base of his hands. Despite everything, he felt more than a twinge of regret at how he had come across to her – even if it had been for her own good. Seijuro heaved a sigh upon the realisation that he had allowed her to leave with misunderstandings; the scarf he had intended to give to her for protection from the weather weighed his bag down like a broken promise.

He rose, determined to brush aside his unexpectedly dramatic moment; he would simply have to wait to give it to her another day. In the meantime, there was far too much to do than to waste time on such trivialities.

* * *

The train ride back to her family compound was crowded to the point of discomfort, and there were insufficient seats for her. Eru held on tightly to the metal pole, hoping that her surroundings would provide her ample distraction from the destructive thoughts that threatened to break through the mental barriers holding them back.

By the time she reached her station, the sky had transitioned into a relentless, inky expanse, save for the occasional indistinct star that fought to triumph over the darkness. As she trudged home, she struggled to ignore the heaviness of her heart and the flash of indignation she felt towards her situation. She knew she had much to be thankful for – her relative wealth and intelligence, her health, her friendships – and she did try recall the privileges she had before she even considered making an insensitive or ungrateful comment. But, in moments of vulnerability, it was just _difficult_ to ignore the state of her family, especially when she desperately needed a place of refuge.

The front gate to the Nanase compound loomed over her almost menacingly; the polished metal felt cold against her fingers as she fumbled with her keys. While the trees lining the walkway seemed particularly alive with their fiery hues, her garden in autumn was dismal compared to its magnificence in springtime. Closing the gate behind her, she breathed in the crisp air to calm herself, while hoping thoroughly that her parents were in a good mood.

Dead leaves crunched beneath her shoes, and it crossed her mind that life was so transient and indifferent. The beauty of spring had passed so quickly, and the liveliness of autumn was a mere façade. It was only a matter of time before everything came to its inevitable end. And, the worst part was, it would mean _everything_ to her, but it was nothing but _insignificant_ in the grand scheme of things. A process that was as natural as the seasons, and as indifferent as the world.

* * *

 **A/N: I hope this chapter made sense because it did in my head. On the bright side, there's only one chapter remaining for Part I! I intended to reveal the thought processes behind some of Akashi's actions, and my own understanding of Bokushi/Oreshi duality. It would be really helpful if you could spare some time to give me feedback! c:**


	10. wistfulness of winter

_wistfulness: the melancholic yearning or desire for something impossible or in the past_

* * *

In Tokyo, it was rarely cold enough for the snow to last more than a couple of days, and that was assuming there was snowfall in the first place. Eru pressed her face against the cold surface of the windowpanes, delighting in the pleasant sensation spreading across her skin. But, simply because winter came together with the weight of unresolved emotions, it had been her least favourite season ever since she was twelve; she hadn't enjoyed it ever since she left behind the fond memory of playing in the soft, unexpected layer of snow that briefly coated her garden before it inevitably melted.

Outside, the November sun had not yet risen, and the sky was the colour of a bruise – a brilliant myriad of blue and purple hues. Occasions like this, when there was a perfect _balance_ of warmth and cold, day and night, anticipation and nostalgia, it felt as though every puzzle piece that made up the world had finally shifted into place.

By the time she got ready for school, the first light of the morning sun could be seen in faint traces behind the cloud cover. Although the weather was pleasant, she did not fancy the long walk to Teiko bundled in far too many layers. She made sure to close her bedroom door as soundlessly as possible, before padding lightly down the hallway. Hayato, her family butler, was already waiting expectantly for her at the foot of the grand staircase.

"Nanase-san, the chauffeur is ready to bring you to school," Hayato bowed respectfully. Though she had repeatedly waved away the necessity of that gesture, he deemed it the basic level of decorum expected of him. With her bag slung over her shoulder, she slipped through the solid mahogany doors, eager to leave the house before her parents woke up.

The ride to school was silent; the chauffeur, Hikaru, was usually disinclined to make idle conversation – something which Eru was infinitely grateful for. She gazed out of the window, barely registering how her warm breath coated the cold glass with a thin layer of fog.

She stepped out of the car and was immediately greeted by the chill of the open air. Fortunately, there was less than a month to the end of the school term, and she would not need to tolerate the frostiness when traversing the sprawling school grounds much longer. The trees were all bare now, save for the few evergreen ones that maintained their brilliant verdant colour despite the iciness. She made her way to class quickly, wrapping her coat more tightly around herself.

Seijuro was already seated, with his head concealed behind a _fascinating_ account of World Politics and Business. She wondered what had triggered his decision to leave behind their mutual love for literature, in favour of something he had never expressed interest in before.

"Good morning." His tone was clear and cool, exactly as she had grown accustomed to. But this time, he inclined his head in greeting, and there was a glimpse of warmth in the smile he directed to her. She felt a surge of joy at the simple, unexpected gesture as she sat herself down in the adjacent seat.

"Eru," he began seriously, turning to face her, "about the time at the coffee shop." She tensed; it had been months now, and things between them had been unnaturally tense since the incident in summer. _Why was he bringing this up now?_

"Yes?" She winced inwardly at how terse and uninviting her response sounded.

"I am sorry. My cruelty was quite unnecessary." There was a strange _hitch_ , a hesitance that she had never detected before – not since the one-on-one against Murasakibara. Almost as if he was afraid of allowing the silence to drag on, Seijuro produced an expensive looking hand-carved shogi set from beneath his table.

"Your birthday present," he said, "Slightly early, but I concluded that there would be no harm giving it to you in advance. Shall we?" He quickly arranged the pieces and watched her expectantly. Eru was certain she was mistaken, but she could have sworn that she had seen a glimmer of hope, a _plea_. There was a slight, almost imperceptible quiver in the hand that he had extended to her as a form of invitation, and she realised that he was _nervous_.

"Let's play," she agreed; and when she angled her body in his direction and made the first move, she felt as if she was beginning to find him once more.

* * *

He was the same as before. But also, drastically different. A strange, undeniable mixture of both. She supposed his character had some sort of duality: a balance between the warmth and iciness, the cruelty and the compassion. Or, maybe it was more of a struggle, between protecting himself and his interests, and treating others the way they deserved to be treated; an endless dilemma as two completely antithetical ideas competed for dominance over his mind. And, at the heart of it all, she realised that he desperately feared being alone if he were ever left behind by his teammates.

Sometimes, when people changed, they changed for the worse, triggered by something tremendously painful, even heart-breaking. Eru _knew_ that Seijuro's change could be traced back to the fateful one-on-one against Murasakibara; she _knew_ it was rooted in his deep fear of being left behind in terms of ability. She _knew_ he was terrified of losing his teammates, maybe even more than he was afraid of losing at all. And, for the longest time, she was convinced that this change was undesirable, with the dangerous potential of gradually tearing apart his humanity – or what was left of it. After all, she lived with two examples who exemplified just how twisted someone could become after a loss.

But every so often, he would catch her off-guard. He would momentarily lapse back into who he was before, revealing a familiar, warmth and compassion that she had always known him to have. Then, she would be sent reeling, wondering if he was getting better, if he was still there, beneath the alien façade; wondering, yet again, if there was hope for him, _for them_.

* * *

Eru bundled her woollen outerwear more closely around her body, feeling cold despite the short walk from her car to the front door. For the first time since winter began, there was a light drizzle of snow that fell silently from the sky. Against the background of the darkening sky, the scene reminded her of a documentary she had seen once of the devastating aftermath of a volcanic eruption, when ash floated almost serenely in the air. Minute, unassuming, but strongly reminiscent of cruelty and loss.

She hadn't liked winter – not after she left behind fond memories of playing in the soft layer of snow that briefly coated her garden before it inevitably melted. As the wind nipped her cheeks, she was reminded of its cruelty. As the snow fell in a flurry and bit her fingers, she was glimpsed its indifference. As the snowflakes settled gently on the gravel, creating a serene, idyllic picture, she was overwhelmed by memories that were irretrievable now.

Eru pushed open the front door of her home, eager to escape the snow that was falling more steadily now. As soon as she shut the door, she shrugged off her coat and slipped out of her shoes before arranging them neatly in the shoe cupboard. The warmth that greeted her felt unexpectedly welcoming, in a way that she hadn't felt in a while. It was instantly dispelled when she registered her mother's presence in the entrance hall.

"Eru," her mother greeted, "wash up quickly. We have much to discuss during dinner with your father." Then she swept out of the room without even waiting for a response, carrying herself with so much dignity, elegance and _coldness_ , that Eru couldn't help but shiver involuntarily. While this was far better than another episode of _Point Out Eru's Flaws in the Worst Ways Possible_ , a part of her still felt a prick of annoyance and hurt: this was how her mother welcomed her after spending two weeks in Kyoto for business.

She hurried up the stairs, feet padding lightly on the carpeted floor. Leaving her school bag by the door, Eru removed her clothes and stepped into the shower. The sensation of warm water running over her body was a pleasant one, and she relished the feeling of her muscles loosening. Turning off the water, Eru reached for the fluffy towel hanging by the bath and wrapped it around her body. The quick rinse had rejuvenated her with the energy she desperately needed to face her mother for what Eru expected would be a tense conversation.

Tugging on a sweater and tying her hair in a loose knot, Eru briskly made her way downstairs. Her parents were already seated when she meekly slipped into her seat, and she actively avoided their gazes, fearing that she would inadvertently incur her mother's wrath. The cook, Arisa, emerged from the kitchen to announce the menu for the night – a pointless exercise, or so Eru thought, but something that was ingrained in her parents' own upbringing nonetheless. As Hayato carefully carried out steaming bowls of miso soup, her mother carefully folded her hands on her lap and turned to face her.

"We have enrolled you into Rakuzan High in Kyoto." Nanase Misaki was fond of cutting to the chase, and this was no exception.

At Eru's apparent unresponsiveness, her mother nudged her father pointedly, "Takashi?" A questioning, arched eyebrow, and evidence of frustration underlying her words. Eru cast a sidelong glance at her father. Takashi's face was devoid of expression, something that Eru had been forced to grow accustomed to for the last three years. An unidentifiable emotion flickered across his face momentarily, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared; if she didn't know better, she would've thought it was a hint of an apology.

"I'm afraid there isn't much of a choice," her father began, "and they have already accepted you on account of your past academic achievements."

"And why isn't there a choice?" Eru felt a twinge of annoyance at his words. _Since when did they have the right to make such important decisions on her behalf?_

" _Your_ father and I have business in Kyoto for at least a year while we expand the firm and set up another major branch there. Naturally, we will need to live there temporarily to oversee the initial phases of the business operations." Her mother's mouth was set in a hard line, and her tone brooked no further argument.

"What if I was planning on following Kuroko to Seirin? I don't need either of you to stay behind to look after me; there's always Hayato and Arisa anyway." She was sure that she sounded like a spoilt, petulant child, but she couldn't ignore the indignation she felt at this injustice.

" _Seirin?_ The new school?" Her mother's face twisted in an expression of unconcealed disgust.

Regardless, Eru lifted her gaze to defiantly meet her mother's before saying, "I trust Kuroko's decisions."

"You will be following us to Kyoto, and you _will_ attend Rakuzan. This is the final decision. It is one of the most prestigious schools in Japan, and our friends' children are all attending it. In fact, I was speaking to your friend's father – Akashi-san – the other day, and he mentioned intentions of sending his son there as well. It is ideal for _you_ to make connections as early as possible."

There was a tense silence that ensued at the dining table, dispelled only by the soft clinking of chopsticks against china. It was then that Eru was struck by how different they were. Although her physical features were inherited from her mother, there were subtle nuances – _improvements_ – in the latter: Misaki's perfectly-shaped eyebrows, her sleek brown hair that lay evenly across her shoulders and her cool, challenging gaze that all made her looked regal and downright condescending. Moments like this, Eru almost couldn't believe this was her mother at all. But then again, _this_ was what change did to some. And _this_ was exactly why she was terrified for Seijuro – that he, too, would become unrecognisable.

The tension in the room was almost palpable, like a dark cloud that had descended upon the dining table that was only worsened by her mother's cool stare. Eager to escape her suffering, Eru quickly finished her food and politely excused herself. Without casting a single glance behind her, she retreated to her room, hoping to avoid seeing her parents for the rest of the night.

She hated how her mother framed the situation to appear as though she had the best intentions for Eru at heart. She had no interest in _making connections_ or _attending the most prestigious school_ ; she just wanted to be with people that she cared about. Seijuro being in the picture introduced far too many factors: her undeniable affection for him, whether platonic or romantic, her concern for his well-being, but, his relentless pursuit of success.

At the heart of it all, she was terrified that she would have no one left if he turned on her. She tried to ignore the guilt that came along with that fear: a true friend _shouldn't_ perceive their best friend in such a manner. But, with Seijuro, there was always a strange balance of trust and uncertainty. His cold dismissiveness inspired fear, leading to an inherent expectation that he would eventually treat her the same way he had treated the rest of teammates. And then, there was the part of her that genuinely trusted him; she had a lingering, pervasive hope that he would expose his vulnerabilities to her again – if not as the person he was before, then as the person he had eventually become. And, perhaps, that's what made him so captivating: the hope that she would be able to find him again.

* * *

Warm sunlight filtered in through the windows that lined the corridors of Teiko. The hallway was filled with the lively chatter of students as they exited the lecture theatre after a particularly mundane tutorial on inverse and composite functions. A group of students gathering in directly in front of the entrance dispersed hastily as Seijuro stepped out of the lecture hall. He knew that his distinctive crimson hair stood out amongst the crowd and hoped that it would help Eru locate him more easily.

"Found you!" She said breathlessly, and he couldn't help but stare at the brilliant smile that spread across her face; it really did accentuate her pleasant features. "Sorry, I got stuck in the crowd on the way out."

"No matter," he waved her apology away, "Regarding what the teacher mentioned earlier – do you have any plans for high school?"

Eru hesitated, before replying, "I'm going to Rakuzan as well."

He barely concealed his surprise at this unexpected turn of events; Eru had previously expressed her doubts that she would join him there. His eyes narrowed, "Was this your own decision?" He wouldn't put it past her parents to force her into the prestige and glamour. When she averted her eyes from his scrutinising gaze, he knew that he had deduced correctly.

"It doesn't matter anyway," she mumbled, "at least I'll be with you." Seijuro could've sworn that he saw a light dusting of pink on her cheeks before it was covered by her hair. His heart felt strangely light as he guided her to the locker room, with his hand resting gently against the small of her back.

"Eru," he said, as they reached the locker room, "I'm pleased – that you will be joining me in Rakuzan." Seijuro was rewarded for his sudden burst of honesty by the delighted smile that she directed at him. And, if he were to trust absolutely in his intuition, there was a hint of relief in the smile as well.

"Yeah," she said softly, "I am too."

The companionable silence that ensued felt equal parts novel and familiar, like something they once had, that he sorely missed. After briskly slipping on his outdoor shoes, he turned his attention back to Eru, watching her intently as she fumbled with her laces. Endearing, really. She straightened up and slung her school bag over her shoulder again, before looking at him questioningly. He realised then that it was the first time he had waited for her in far too long. He cleared his throat.

"Let's go."

He _saw_ the hint of amusement in her eyes, just like how he knew she was fully cognizant of the embarrassment he was feeling. Wordlessly, he reached out towards and relieved her of the stack of files she carried in her arms. Although she seemed caught off-guard, Eru relented surprisingly easily. Seijuro could feel the cold winter chill seeping through his warm cashmere sweater and cast a worried glance in Eru's direction. Noticing her slight shiver, Seijuro tucked her files under his left arm, and untwisted his scarf from around his neck with his right.

"Eru," he motioned for her to stop and handed her files back, "hold this for a second." He took a step towards her, painfully aware of their proximity. To say that she was stunned when he gently lifted her brown curls and wrapped the scarf snugly around her neck, would have been an understatement. His piercing heterochromatic eyes met hers confidently, concealing the nervousness he felt inside. And then, he smiled; for once he didn't think it was forced. At least, when he saw her eyes soften, it didn't _feel_ forced. That's what she made him feel – natural.

It was a ten-minute walk to her car. Ever since their first winter term in Teiko, she had told Hikaru to wait further away from school, to avoid drawing attention to herself or her wealth. Foolish, but admirable nonetheless. At that thought, he felt a strange rush of warmth for the girl.

"Christmas," he said suddenly, and she tilted her head curiously at him, "May I see you at Christmas?" His cheeks felt flushed, which was ridiculous – it was a perfectly normal question to ask. At her unresponsiveness, he turned to face her. If he thought she was surprised by his gesture with the scarf, it would have been because he hadn't seen the look of utter confusion written all over her features. He had half a mind to tell her to ignore his question completely, until her face broke into a radiant smile, and she felt her soft hand slip into his.

"I'd love that."

* * *

Eru reckoned Christmas was her favourite period in the entire year. There was something special about tinsel hanging loosely on tree boughs, the excited chorus of children receiving presents, and the undeniable magic in the air, even if the holiday wasn't as widely celebrated in Japan as it was elsewhere.

Since she arrived fifteen minutes earlier than scheduled, Eru slipped into a booth in the quieter section of the coffeeshop. She fiddled idly with the box in her hands, containing Seijuro's birthday and Christmas presents – a set of silver basketball cufflinks that she found endearing, and a warm, chocolate-brown sweater she reckoned would suit him.

A soft chime prompted Eru to look towards the door, just in time to see Seijuro running a hand casually through his hair, before scanning the coffeeshop to find her. Even at that distance, she saw his eyes brighten the moment they landed on her. She smiled involuntarily – because it was Christmas, because of the slight smile dancing on his lips, because of the redness of his wind-nipped cheeks, because he was _there_.

"Merry Christmas, Seijuro," she beamed, while motioning for him to take his seat.

"Merry Christmas," he responded softly, a faint blush tainting his cheeks despite the emotionless façade he forced himself to maintain. Seeing him like that felt familiar and refreshing, yet unnervingly _alien_ too. As he pushed a professionally wrapped gift box towards her, his abashed expression made her feel as if her world had unexpectedly, miraculously righted itself on its axis once again.

* * *

Eru gazed out of her window, which overlooked a portion of the courtyard. The dry ground that had been hard and cracked showed signs of growth – tiny green specks dotting the garden and little buds of flowers making their first appearances. Winter had been long and bitter, and she could hardly contain her delight that the thawing of the ground heralded the arrival of spring.

Despite the cruelty she associated with winter, however, she found herself gradually beginning to appreciate its symbolism. The barrenness of the courtyard, and the newness of growth – two absolutely contrasting ideas that only revealed how life was often a beautiful, unexpected balance. It really _was_ about balance; the hard, unrelenting exterior concealed a lovely warmth beneath – just like what she had seen in Seijuro – and the latter could only be revealed once all the ice had melted away, exposing the beauty beneath, exposing _him_.

The sky at sunrise was always a sight to behold, with a myriad of different colours fighting for dominance, only to meld into a picturesque gradient of red, orange and gold. The low temperature did nothing to dilute its splendour, and she was hit with the realisation that it was foolish to spend winter waiting eagerly for spring; not when there was so much to behold already. In the same way, it was foolish to wish continuously for Seijuro to return to who he was before, not when this change wasn't necessarily bad, just – different.

Eru was right before: that people would change drastically, and, more often than not, in an undesirable way. But she could have been wrong too, and his change was not for the worse. Maybe she spent far too long missing who he was before and failing to understand the person he was now. And maybe, the point was to enjoy winter while it was there, while remembering that there was something truly special lying dormant beneath, remembering that it would take time to coax it out. All she knew now, was that she was willing to remain alongside him every step of the way, up until she found him, and even beyond.

* * *

 **A/N: sorry that this came out so late; it's about twice the length of a normal chapter because I needed to tie up a lot of loose ends before the story could progress to part II. this chapter concludes part I of the story, the next update will be set in Rakuzan. hope you enjoyed it!**

 **p.s. the link to akashi + brown sweater is on my profile, if you are interested in my inspiration :0)**


	11. hiraeth

II

* * *

 _hiraeth_ _: a homesickness for a home you can't return to_

* * *

In a way, this was how she had expected it to begin again – with a clear sky devoid of clouds, a faint, lingering chill that came with the end of winter, and everything else being exceptionally ordinary. Eru stood at the entrance of the school, admiring the sprawling school grounds. Although Teiko had an impressive campus, it paled in comparison to the borderline ostentatious prestige that Rakuzan emanated. An aesthetically pleasing mix of modern and traditional architecture, the well-maintained façade comprised ivory-coloured walls interspersed with wooden panels and long glass windows for volume and texture.

She tugged uncomfortably at the maroon cashmere scarf that hung loosely around her neck. Entering Rakuzan meant that she had stepped into yet another world of riches – one quite possibly filled with judgemental individuals who wanted to befriend her for her wealth or status. A soft sigh escaped her lips. Despite the delicate _karesansui_ by the front gates, and the impressive water feature at the centre of the courtyard, she struggled to appreciate the high school she had been coerced into attending.

"Eru," Seijuro's clear voice cut through the air, "It's been a while."

She whirled around to see familiar red hair, heterochromatic eyes and the distinctive aristocratic arch of Seijuro's nose. There was a confident smirk playing on his lips – nothing like the genuine smile she missed, but a vast improvement nonetheless.

"Seijuro!" She greeted enthusiastically, "You've grown taller," – _and_ _more muscular, really._

"The scarf suits you," he replied, reaching out to adjust the tips of the scarf slightly. She flushed as his intense gaze lingered on her for longer than necessary. Then, he motioned towards the school entrance and turned on his heel. Though he started walking first, she noticed how he made sure to match her stride. The slight pang in her heart indicated her belated realisation of just how much she had missed being with him since the end of the winter term. Her parents had rented a private lodge in the Niseko mountains for a week of skiing; she had adamantly refused to accompany them on the slopes, choosing to while the hours away in the village coffeeshops instead. When she caught his quick glance in her direction to make sure that she was keeping up with him, Eru swore she almost felt tangible warmth spread across her chest.

The entrance hall was as imposing as she had expected, brightly-lit with high ceilings and a pleasant scent. It opened into two similar locker rooms, for males and females respectively. After agreeing to meet in the adjourning hallway, Eru quickly found the locker with her name printed on it and exchanged her pastel pink Vans for standard-issue black shoes.

Seijuro was already waiting patiently in the hallway when she exited the locker room. Although there was still half an hour until school began, animated conversations and hushed laughter already filled the air. The relaxed atmosphere came as a surprise to her – people of higher socio-economic statuses often had the importance of dignity impressed on them from a young age. Seijuro led her towards the large notice board that a crowd of students hovered in front of. Unsurprisingly, they were in the same form class, but this time, there was a taunting number four in bold beside her name.

"Oh," she mumbled, her heart sinking. As it appeared, the abundance of distractions in the form of arguments with her parents and her relationship with Seijuro had cost her from claiming a place in the top three – something her mother would most certainly be displeased about. Then she felt a comforting hand brush against hers; the gaze that met her own was filled with concern, and she felt a misplaced flutter in her stomach.

"Come, let's find our class." He led her away from the notice board, not once bringing up her ranking, or the fact that he had claimed first place once again.

Clear glass panels rested in mahogany frames and looked out into the flourishing courtyard. Halfway through, the corridor branched into two separate wings – one for electives and the other, for club activities. The stretch for regular classrooms was situated at the end of the hallway, on either side of a grand staircase with polished banisters. When they finally reached class, it was a quarter to eight, and there were enough empty seats for them to find adjacent tables.

* * *

They shared almost all their classes – Japanese, English, mathematics, science and social studies – with the exception of their elective class; she had opted for literature over business. Thankfully, the first day was set aside for orientation: introductions, familiarisation with the school grounds and club activity sign-ups. Their teachers were warm and welcoming, especially the one in charge of their class, Shimizu Hinata _sensei_. Japanese and mathematics class had breezed by before she really realised it. When it came to new environments, she often found herself feeling unfocussed, and relied heavily on Seijuro to guide her to each class. Meeting new people tended to make her feel nervous; she recalled how she was forced to interact with Seijuro on the first day of Teiko because they were the chosen representatives – it was odd how someone she had felt so anxious being around had rapidly become her most trusted confidant.

When the bell rang to indicate the beginning of their break, Seijuro rose gracefully from his seat.

"Shall we find the main office to submit our club activity sign-up forms?"

She nodded once, "Um, I think you should know –"

"I expect you'll be manager once more?" Seijuro looked at her curiously. "You would be an invaluable addition to the team."

There was a peculiar, uncharacteristic emotion on his face that she had difficulty identifying – hope, perhaps. Or maybe it was simply her wishful thinking that twisted his expectation into something more positive. Still, there was a tinge of regret when she shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she said, doing her best to avoid his contemplative gaze, "I've decided to, well, pursue other things – writing, you know?" She wasn't sure if she was ready to admit that there were far too many memories involved with basketball that she wasn't ready to face just yet. And perhaps, it would be better to have an extra-curricular life apart from Seijuro.

"We'd have less time together." The way he said it was factual, and she almost missed the slight hurt that tainted his words. He quickly angled his face away from her, but she recognised the same petulant expression he would adopt since their first year in junior high. Then his eyes hardened, "The writing club, then?"

"I heard it's free and easy. We can read and write during club sessions, and it's not limited to any genre." She smiled at him, "It's only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which means I can still come and watch the basketball practices."

He made a non-committal sound, before leading her in the direction of the office. She could feel his displeasure rolling off him in waves but felt a twinge of gratitude that he decided against pursuing the subject. The hallways were empty and silent, save for the echo of their footsteps.

When they neared the office, it appeared that there were already other first-years who had the same idea. A boy with tousled black hair stood with his back to them, his right hand pressed against the wall as he hastily filled in his club activity form. A left hander – that was uncommon. There was a blonde girl waiting next to him, a scowl etched on her features as she tapped her foot impatiently.

Seijuro knocked sharply on the office door, just as the boy exclaimed triumphantly and raised the single sheet of paper in the air. With a dramatic bow in the direction of the girl, he turned towards the door. The first thing that Eru noticed was that his eyes were a brilliant shade of green, something extremely uncommon among Japanese. The second was the faint pink on his cheeks when he realised that there were spectators of his antics.

"You're such an idiot Kei," she heard the girl grumble, "Remind me why I'm friends with you again?"

He dismissed her words with a careless wave of his hand, a brilliant smile spreading across his face, "You love me."

The door opened to reveal a lady whose hair was tied neatly into a bun. Behind her spectacles, her eyes widened with recognition when she glanced at the sheets of paper in their hands. Seijuro bowed politely, "I am Akashi Seijuro and this is Nanase Eru," he gestured vaguely in her direction. "We are both from 1-A."

"A pleasure to meet you. I hope you will be satisfied with your clubs." She took the forms from Seijuro before looking expectantly at the pair waiting patiently behind them. As soon as her attention left them, Eru felt Seijuro's palm press gently against her back as he guided her away from the office.

"Igarashi Keiichi from 1-B," she heard him say, before they were out of earshot.

* * *

From their position under the shade of the tall columns, Eru could hear the soft patter of water from the fountain in the centre of the courtyard. The ground was thawing quickly, and the first signs of spring flowers were already making their appearance. In the spring, the air was always a perfect balance of crisp and fresh – a reminder of coldness, and a herald of renewal. Some older students leaned against the marble exterior of the fountain, laughing as faint sprays of water speckled their uniforms. When the sun reappeared from behind a mass of clouds and bathed the school in a pleasant glow, Eru felt – even if it was just for a moment – that Rakuzan hadn't been a mistake after all.

They hardly had time to explore the school grounds before Seijuro suggested that they find their next classrooms. Since he opted for business over literature, it would be the first time in three years that she would have to be alone. The earlier tension had dissipated, and the silence that lapsed between them was companionable and familiar. Although Seijuro's business class was at the beginning of the hallway, he had opted to walk Eru to hers first – an unexpectedly courteous gesture that was strongly reminiscent of the Seijuro she knew from their first two years at Teiko.

"This is your class," he gestured towards the sign overhead that displayed _Literature – Elective (1)_ in bold. "You should be sharing the lesson with students from classes 1-A to 1-C."

"Mm," she smiled warmly at him, "I'll see you later during English!" They were standing close enough for her to detect the beginnings of a small smile threatening to make its appearance.

He raised his hand in farewell, only for Eru to unexpectedly flinch in response. The smile on her face was forced as she imitated his gesture, but she didn't miss how his eyes narrowed infinitesimally, or his clenched fist.

"I'll see you later," he said firmly, "And take care of yourself." The touch of gentleness took her by surprise, and she felt the weight in her heart grow inexplicably lighter despite the unfortunate implications of her earlier response to his action.

Although there was less than ten minutes left of break, the classroom was empty, save for a group of students who had come earlier to secure seats in the backrow. Eru found herself a seat by the window in the second row – an ideal position, where she could enjoy the courtyard, while avoiding being the object of the teacher's scrutiny. Someone had left the windows open, and she felt the faint touch of a cool spring breeze that carried the scent of flowers in bloom. Her eyes softened as she rested her cheek against the palm of her hand. In a way, the refreshing nature of spring felt symbolic of the thawing of Seijuro's cold persona. If she closed her eyes, she could almost ignore everything except the immediate tranquillity.

"Hey, it's you from earlier!" Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice that was vaguely reminiscent of someone, but impossible to place. "Mind if I sit here?"

She shook her head unthinkingly, only to meet a familiar pair of verdant eyes. _The boy from earlier_. "Go ahead," she said, immediately averting her eyes.

"Igarashi Keiichi." He extended his right hand in greeting, and she shook it uncomfortably. "Nanase-chan, right?"

"A pleasure to meet you, Igarashi-kun," her voice sounded unsteady even to herself. Moments like this, she found herself despising her reticent nature. _How could he possibly feel so comfortable interacting with a complete stranger?_ If he detected her discomfort, he made no indication of it, simply slipping into the adjacent seat in a surprisingly graceful manner that reminded her of Kise.

Eru cast a discreet glance at the wall clock and felt a wave of disappointment when she realised that there were five minutes left before class. She reached into her pocket, and her fingers wrapped themselves around her handphone. With some luck, she could look distracted enough to avoid a conversation with Igarashi.

"So Nanase-chan, what club were you signing up for earlier?" She withheld the sigh that threatened to spill from her lips and directed a tight smile in his direction. There was a wide grin on his face again, and she was starting to think that he had an unlimited supply of smiles to honour every occasion.

"The writing club," she replied, feeling nervous under his contemplative gaze. His eyes widened, and she found herself inadvertently studying it more closely. _How unexpected it was for a Japanese to have such piercing green eyes._ In a way, they were almost as captivating as Seijuro's distinctive heterochromatic ones.

"Seriously? What are the odds!" And there was the smile again, brighter this time – if that was possible. "I've always enjoyed writing," he sounded almost wistful, "Been in the club since junior high. Kind of unexpected, huh?"

She was saved from having to come up with an intelligent response when the teacher stepped into class. Conversations and any lingering sounds of laughter instantly faded away, and silence descended upon the class. His eyes swept over the students, appearing to quickly analyse each individual, before he turned to the chalkboard. In her peripheral vision, Igarashi leaned back in his seat expectantly. A few smooth strokes later, he stepped away to reveal his name written neatly – _Ikeda Hiroshi_.

Although he spent the entire class on introductions, settling administrative matters and confirming the literary texts, Eru found herself feeling distracted. Perhaps it was the incessant clicking of Igarashi's pen, or the hushed whispers coming from the row behind; or perhaps her subconscious mind _really_ missed sitting next to Seijuro. At least he didn't tap the ground rhythmically or whisper irrelevant trivia while she was taking notes.

"Did you notice how Ikeda _sensei_ has a habit of saying 'okay' after every few sentences?" Igarashi's voice sounded strained, like he was trying desperately to hold back his laughter. "Kind of dilutes the fear factor, you know?" After that comment, Eru couldn't quite avoid registering each time he repeated the word.

When the bell finally rang, Eru gathered her belongings into her messenger-style bag with noticeable relief. After hurriedly pushing in her chair, she briskly made her way to the door. Seijuro was already waiting outside the classroom when she exited the door. There was a tiny smile on his face when he approached her, his eyes shining, almost as if he had been waiting eagerly for her company. When she smiled in return, she hoped that he could see how much she had missed his company as well.

Then his eyes shifted away from hers to something behind her, before narrowing slightly. She felt a sudden tap on her shoulder, and whirled around to see Igarashi standing behind her, sheepishly running a hand through his messy black hair.

"See you tomorrow," he said, looking slightly abashed at his own forwardness, "Don't forget that there's club orientation too!" Then he smiled, and in that instant, Eru thought it looked breath-taking; not because he was extremely handsome – although he _was_ , really – but because of the sincerity in his expression. And for some strange, unidentifiable reason, she felt her cheeks grow warm.

"I'll see you too, Igarashi-kun."

"Let's go, Eru," Seijuro interrupted, "We don't want to be late for science." He touched her arm gently, but she could feel the subtle tugging motion.

"Akashi-kun, right?" Igarashi asked, seemingly oblivious to Seijuro's displeased expression, "Nice to meet you too!"

"The pleasure is mine," Seijuro responded smoothly, barely disguising his inexplicable distaste, as he turned his body away from Igarashi, in a clear attempt to discontinue the conversation. As he held on to Eru's forearm and headed in the direction of 1-A, Eru cast an apologetic glance towards Igarashi, only to see him looking oddly bemused.

* * *

The sun was low when Eru strolled towards the school gates with Seijuro half a step ahead of her. At the stage between winter and spring, the temperature was always a perfect balance – cool enough to continue wearing sweaters, but warm enough to enjoy the outdoors and the fresh, crisp air. In these warmer months, Eru tried to avoid calling the chauffeur, Hikaru. It was her way of disassociating herself from her immense wealth, and maybe even a subtle attempt to rebel against her parents. Before the fateful game against Murasakibara, Seijuro had done the same; and, from the way he headed towards the station with decisive strides, it seemed to Eru that they were reverting to their old habits in Tokyo.

The open-air platform was a blessing in the spring. Cool gusts of wind ruffled the ends of Eru's scarf and left a sweet scent in its wake. Other students from Rakuzan milled around the train platform, conversing in low tones. She felt a light tug on her bag; when she met Seijuro's gaze, it was warm and understanding, without barely a hint of judgement. Eru's hold on the straps slackened just as his palm brushed over hers and he removed the bag from her grasp.

There was a distant rumbling before the train screeched to a halt at the platform. With one hand pressed against the small of Eru's back, Seijuro ushered her gently onto the train, before they settled down into adjacent seats. Outside, the sky was streaked with layers of pink and orange – a unique array of varying shades that she didn't think she would ever tire of.

"How are you feeling?" Seijuro's shrewd gaze seemed to pierce through her pretences, and she found the forced smile on her face fading.

"Like I've just run a marathon, but emotionally," Eru mumbled. Slumped in her seat, she found herself inadvertently leaning towards Seijuro until her head rested lightly against his shoulder. There was an almost-imperceptible intake of breath before his hand moved to rest on her thigh.

"Rest. I will wake you when we arrive." When he whispered, the warm breath felt indescribably soothing, and she found her eyes slipping shut despite her efforts. In the last moments of her consciousness, Eru felt a slight, but distinct pressure on her head as he planted a featherlight kiss against her hair.

Twenty minutes later, she felt a light nudge and she shifted drowsily in her seat just as the train rolled into the platform. While she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, Seijuro slung her bag over his shoulder with graceful ease and waited expectantly by the exit. Although he should've alighted at the next station, his penthouse suite was _technically_ within walking distance of her home and he had insisted on accompanying her. Besides, she wasn't about to object to his decision – not when it ignited the peculiar warmth that came with reminiscing the past and relishing the present.

He paused when he realised that Eru had slowed to a halt and gazed at her questioningly. "Is everything all right? Would you rather I walked slower?"

For a moment she was dumbfounded; it had been a while since he had offered more than an imperative – or at best, a suggestion. To hear him explicitly ask for her opinion… she felt an inexplicable warmth, and her lips bore the hint of a smile.

When she quickened her pace to catch up, Seijuro cast a concerned glance in her direction, "Let's get you home. You must be tired." _What was that phrase? Once hard ice melts, spring comes and flowers bloom._ If _this_ was what spring felt like, then she desperately wished that it was eternal, something that she could treasure for as long as she could remember. Maybe then, she'd always recall the lightness in her chest and the warmth in her heart.

The walk from the train station back home was lengthy, but pleasant. Since her mother had intentionally chosen a particularly traditional part of Kyoto – for the architecture and _aura_ , she claimed – the journey was punctuated with _Shinto_ -related décor, and even an occasional shrine. Other houses that lined the street were charming and rustic-looking; on her part, she rather enjoyed the atmosphere established by the houses' stereotypical wooden panelling, tatami screens and quaint gardens.

She led him to the end of the street, which was dominated by an attractive bungalow with sprawling gardens, that looked much like the other houses, if only several times larger. Beyond the wooden gate adorned with neatly-trimmed ivy lay an impeccable courtyard with an even, pebbled pathway lined with bonsai. Her mother had designed it when Eru was younger; surprisingly, it had been the result of her children's preference for traditional aesthetic.

"Here," Seijuro extended her bag towards her, "I'll be taking my leave." Eru was sure that it was a figment of her imagination, but she _swore_ that Seijuro's fingers left a trail of warmth where they touched hers. Something reassuring, something familiar.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" she said lightly. In the fading light, it momentarily occurred to her that Seijuro's features looked oddly accentuated – the softness in his eyes that she sorely missed, the aristocratic slope of his nose. When he stepped forward to close the space between them, she wondered why she'd never paid closer attention to the intensity of his gaze.

She opened her mouth to make an irrelevant comment – anything, really, to distract her from the erratic beating of her heart. But she was interrupted by the feeling of his arms encircling her frame, as found herself being pulled closer to him. Then her head was pressed against his chest, his arms tightened their grip on her, and all she could register was how loud _his_ heart was beating. His warmth was suffocating in the best way – the kind that put her dangerously at risk of free-falling into the storm of emotions that existed when he was with her.

When they broke apart, Eru thought the warmth should've instantly left her, but remnants of it lingered within her chest in a way she didn't think was possible. For a moment, a part of her wasn't convinced that she had the willpower to meet his eyes – after all, she might never be able to look away. Then, her gaze flickered upwards, and the knot in her stomach inadvertently tightened at the sight of the genuine smile that danced across his face, and the way his eyes glimmered with amusement and another emotion she couldn't identify.

As he turned to leave, she was struck by an unexpected pang of longing, triggered by either the barrage of memories from the past, or the immediate physical absence she felt when he was gone. It brought about a different kind of pain – from the recognition that he was there, but _he wasn't_. Maybe she was being naïve about this, about him. And maybe this was all there was to their relationship: a fearful, distraught girl desperately seeking solace in a refuge that she wasn't sure she could still return to. But maybe, it didn't matter that she couldn't return to the spring she knew and cherished; after all, the ice didn't need to melt for there to be beauty.

* * *

 **A/N: this concludes the first chapter of part II. they're finally at rakuzan; 16 and all grown up! the a** **rc will focus on eru's** **background, akashi's** **contrasting mentalities, and most importantly (finally) the building up of romance**

 **the descriptions of Rakuzan are completely not-canon because I don't think it was really the focus of a basketball anime haha, but I tried to depict it as grand, without being ostentatious. tell me what you think about the new character(s), setting and development! x**

* * *

 **glossary:**

 _karesansui_ : japanese rock garden

 _"once hard ice melts, spring comes and flowers bloom"_ : an ancient Chinese phrase


	12. bittersweet

_bittersweet: a mixture of joy and pain; finding happiness amidst sorrow_

* * *

Eru would never admit it, but she had watched Seijuro's retreating figure all the way until she could no longer distinguish his silhouette from the fading glow of the setting sun, lost among the lilac clouds and darkening skies.

It occurred briefly to her that this was what he had always been since the day they had first met in Teiko – as radiant as the sun at its peak. But not everything remains accessible, and the sun, in all its brilliance, couldn't remain at its highest point forever. Eventually, it retreated until it lingered _just_ out of reach: enough to be cognizant of its presence, but far too little to ever feel secure. And still, it was in those moments that the true extent of its remarkable beauty could even come close to being captured.

The tiny smile playing on the corner of her lips slipped off her face once he disappeared from sight and was quickly replaced by an unwelcome feeling of dread at the prospect of facing her parents. She gingerly reached for the sliding door, only to feel it being pulled abruptly from her grasp.

Her mother cut an imposing figure against the doorway, partially illuminated by the dwindling evening light. Although it took a moment to fully register her presence, the look of disdain that marred her mother's facial features had an immediate effect – a sinking heart alongside a growing sense of dread.

"Come in," she said, and there wasn't an ounce of warmth in her voice. "I want to hear about your day."

Eru slipped into the house through the narrow space between the door and her mother, making sure to avoid even the briefest contact. Her heart was beating so fast that her vision was beginning to blur, but she knew that it was impossible to do more than delay the inevitable. There was a muffled thud where she cast her belongings onto the carpeted floor, before her mother destroyed all hope of dwelling on pleasantries.

"Your position for entrance exams?" The silence that followed was deafening, and it was painfully obvious from her mother's stiffened posture that the latter knew to expect bad news.

"Fourth." _In a cohort of three hundred and twelve_ , she wanted to add, but she knew that detail wouldn't make any difference to her mother. "I'm sorry."

If she had even for a moment believed that an apology would soften the incoming blow, then she was sorely mistaken.

"You won't _ever_ be as worthy as she was."

The words were whispered, but she heard them loud and clear. For a moment, Eru almost wished that she had been on the receiving end of another stinging slap – perhaps she wouldn't be in quite as much agony then. And though there was no external sign of the pain being inflicted on her, she knew that the scars would have already unwittingly carved themselves onto her heart.

Nanase Misaki had already turned away, ignoring the forlorn figure bracing herself desperately against the wall. Eru felt condemned – as though her mother had uttered a final verdict against her existence. In that moment, she felt an immense hatred for herself: even with the emotional turmoil, there was nothing she yearned for more than her mother's acceptance.

It was odd that she was reacting this way, when the words had always been lurking menacingly beneath the thinly-veiled displeasure her mother felt towards her. They had been lingering at the back of her mind from the moment their family had received the bad news, and her mother had transformed into someone truly unrecognisable. Still, hearing the words being spoken aloud _concretised_ their meaning somehow, and now it was so much more real than it had ever been.

Once her mother disappeared into the study, Eru turned on her heel and headed for her bedroom. The moment she slid the door shut, she sank onto the hard, wooden floor, her entire body trembling uncontrollably. It was as though all the barriers holding on tightly to her emotions instantly crumbled into infinitesimal pieces; the hot tears that had been gathering reluctantly at the corner of her eyes rolled defiantly down her cheeks.

Half an hour later, Eru brushed the last remnants of tears from her damp cheeks. As she made her way to the adjourning bathroom, she pulled her brown curls back into a high ponytail. Her trembling hands turned on the tap, before allowing the cool water to run over them. When she lifted her head to the see her reflection in the mirror, she was startled by the shattered, bloodshot gaze staring back at her. For the first time in ages, she had lost control of her emotions – something she had always held on tightly to, for fear of exposing her vulnerabilities. Then, almost instantly, the expression was replaced by a defiant one; forced, but certain nonetheless. After all, this was just another crack she had to conceal.

When Eru finally pulled herself away from the sink and headed back into her bedroom, she felt considerably more stable; her body wasn't shaking unnecessarily, and her breathing was steady again. Her bed sank beneath her weight, and the duvet felt comforting between her hands, as she ran her fingers back and forth over the soft material. A wave of exhaustion took over her and her eyes to fluttered shut. Somehow, the overwhelming silence that enveloped the room didn't feel stifling at all – not when it was a welcome contrast to the cruel words she had just been on the receiving end of. By the time the peace was interrupted by the soft chimes indicating dinner, Eru was already fast asleep.

* * *

Her dreams were filled with desolation and little else; haunting figures and a sense of fear that lingered even after her eyes flickered open. Outside her window, the sky was still dark, and Eru could only vaguely identify the masses of clouds that shielded the faded stars from her view. Though she felt physically rested, her mind was an endless turmoil of indistinguishable, inseparable emotions that contributed to the ever-present heaviness in her heart.

Her morning routine was reassuringly familiar and did wonders to relieve the residual unease in the wake of her unpleasant memories of the day before. After retrieving her messenger bag, Eru padded lightly down the hallway, eager to escape the suffocating confines of her home.

The rush of cool air that greeted her when she slid open the wooden door felt like freedom. Disregarding everything else, there was just something about the sheer simplicity of this part of Kyoto that she couldn't quite put a finger on. In her mind, this minimalist, but distinctive architecture recounted stories in a subtle way of their own; unlike the modern skyscrapers of Tokyo, these quaint wooden houses _breathed_.

When she arrived at the train station, Seijuro was already waiting with his blazer draped casually over his right shoulder. His gaze roamed the open platform before quickly landing on her, and she noticed the way he instinctively gave her a once-over as if to ascertain her condition. A part of her wondered why she'd never paid closer attention to the intensity in his eyes; the heterochromatic colours were a source of fascination – unique, captivating and impossible to unravel. Now, she wasn't convinced that she had the willpower to look away.

"Eru," he greeted, the ghost of a smile touching the corners of his lips. "I trust you slept well."

Flashes of her disconcerting dreams rose to the forefront of her mind, before being replaced by the bitter aftertaste of her mother's words. Seijuro sensed her hesitation and cast her a questioning glance, but she dismissed his efforts with a bright smile and hurried footsteps. Thankfully, the sound of the train rolling into the platform removed any potential for further conversation, and Seijuro redirected his attention towards finding room for both of them in the crowded cabins.

With a steady hand pressed against her back, Seijuro guided her to an empty seat before positioning himself directly in front of her. In a way, the gesture felt almost protective – like this was his subtle way of ensuring her security. Eru supposed that this was the strangest thing about their relationship; sometimes she was convinced that she was the one monitoring him, making sure he wasn't too overwhelmed by his self-imposed expectations. But moments like this made her realise that _he_ was often the one looking after _her_.

His firm hold on her arm was unwavering as he steered her through the other students alighting at their station. The way Eru lagged behind him ever-so-slightly gave her the opportunity to admire his absolute focus. And it was in everything: his confidence, his protectiveness, and what she had always appreciated in her life – his steadiness. It seemed that, despite everything, he was still her constant; the anchor amidst the turbulent waves that threatened to drown her.

A figure with tousled brown hair bounded towards them, and Eru barely had time to register his presence before she was given a gentle nudge in the side. Igarashi appeared to be full of good humour, and it was his brilliant smile juxtaposed against Seijuro's half frown that made her realise how drastically different they were. If Seijuro was an anchor, then Igarashi was a hurricane – the kind that drew you in, held on tight, changed your world, and you would never even see it coming.

"Catch you later during Lit, Nanase-chan." Igarashi was _still_ beaming widely, emanating a surprising amount of warmth considering how she barely even considered him an acquaintance. Then he raised his left hand in a gesture of farewell and returned to the same girl he was with the day before.

Igarashi's abrupt departure seemed to have an instantaneous effect of draining the energy in the atmosphere. Eru didn't miss how Seijuro withdrew his fingers from her, all the while maintaining an unnerving silence. He remained a step ahead of her until they reached 1-A, and he hadn't once spared a glance in her direction.

Although these bouts of coldness were not completely out of the ordinary, a part of her felt bitter – not _at him_ , specifically – but towards the circumstances; perhaps it was selfish of her to think solely of herself in this situation, but Eru couldn't help but wonder why Seijuro hadn't chosen a better day to pull away from her. On most days, he kept her steady against the shifting tides. But this time, when the tides were rising rapidly all around her and threatening to throw her against the deadly rocks, her anchor was slowly being hoisted away, leaving her to fend for herself.

She heard Seijuro release a soft sigh and angle his body towards hers. Years of interaction allowed her to detect the remotest hint of an apology written across his features.

"I'll find you later at lunch?" He was never one for unnecessary apologies – not since the incident with Murasakibara – but she recognised his effort to extend an olive branch. And because of that, she gave him the softest smile.

"Of course. Just like always."

Any lingering detachment in his gaze disappeared, and the smile he returned her was genuine. She could _feel_ it. For two entirely different individuals, this was a major common ground: a mutual love for routine and consistency; a fear of abrupt and drastic change.

Ironically, his dread had manifested in his own change from a kind, mild-mannered but firm, compassionate person, into someone unrecognisable: commanding, cold, condescending. But not to her, _never_ to her. In a way, Eru reckoned that Seijuro likened himself to coal: something that needed significant change to be considered valuable, and the only way to achieve that would be to place himself under immense pressure. Without it, he would never be what his father demanded him to be – diamond.

On her part, she had been groomed – moulded, even – to be ignored; to achieve constant success without complaint. Sometimes, she felt like a trophy placed in a display cabinet to lord over others but serving little other purpose. Its maintenance was left to others; her parents wouldn't even consider performing a task as menial as that. To be noticed in her household wasn't a good thing. It meant that she had failed to meet her parents' expectations, or in their eyes, failed to properly replace her sister.

Despite the many things that set them apart, there was a unique kind of relief in the semblances of similarities she occasionally stumbled upon. Though it had taken her far too long to realise, she was beginning to recognise just how valuable it was to have found someone who shared her struggles; someone that she was convinced would stay with her till the end.

 **A/N: so I thought this would get done fairly quickly, but I was wrong. this chapter was meant to be significantly longer, but I realised that it didn't quite make sense to cut the chapter off where I had planned to. at least that means the next chapter is basically half written!**

 **on another good note I finally got my results for IB so I genuinely have no excuse to write, except that I'm lazy. would've published this earlier too, but I got distracted playing super smash bros brawl.** **still, thank you guys for continuously supporting me:) think I'd be a lot less motivated (if that's possible) if it weren't for the lovely reviews**


	13. novel

_novel: something new or unusual; a relatively long fictitious narrative written in prose_

* * *

It was a pleasant surprise for Eru when the day ended without significant drama. Back in Teiko, it wouldn't have taken Aomine or Kise more than half a day to get into immense trouble for something they had done purely on impulse; for instance, the time they instigated a food fight in the cafeteria while arguing over the last onigiri. Or the time they threw a _full_ dustbin from the highest floor, on the pretext of demonstrating the laws of physics. On one hand, she couldn't deny that those eventful days had been the source of much banter amongst the first string. On the other, given her current circumstances, any semblance of peace and sanity was welcome.

Seijuro's determined footsteps broke her reverie, pulling her back to reality. The tiny smile playing on his lips upon meeting her gaze was worth _everything_ their friendship had been through, and her thoughtful expression morphed into a delighted grin. Almost instinctively, he reached over to relieve her of the textbooks she was carrying in her arms. He carried them with ease, and Eru tried her hardest to avoid paying too close attention to his lean but undeniably defined muscles. Thankfully, she was spared from the difficulty when Seijuro broke the silence.

"I'll walk you to the clubroom. It's the orientation session today, correct?"

"Yeah," she hesitated, "It's quite nerve-wrecking, honestly."

He tilted his head curiously in her direction, heterochromatic eyes locking onto her brown ones. "You became manager of the basketball team without knowing anything or anyone. Obviously, you're capable of successfully integrating into a different environment."

A part of her knew he was right, and that empirical evidence pointed to a conclusion that suggested she didn't have anything to worry about. But the _new_ always threw her off-guard: new people and places, new dynamics and habits that she would need to grow accustomed to. The disbelief written across Eru's features wasn't lost on Seijuro, and he sighed.

"You've already made your decision," he paused, contemplating his next words. "And you shouldn't have any trouble."

The resulting warmth that spread to her chest had nothing to do with the effectiveness of his words – after all, she reckoned a twelve-year-old could have used more comforting words – and everything to do with how he actually _tried_ to reassure her.

While the prospect of entering a drastically different environment was daunting, she had already chosen to leave it behind in favour of something novel. _Still_ , she thought, _maybe it was about time she pursued something she had always enjoyed_.

When they arrived at the doors of the clubroom, she noted the hint of worry on Seijuro's face, mixed with a tinge of something else – something bitter, at the notion that they wouldn't be spending quite so much time together anymore. Then it was replaced with a familiar soft expression that would ordinarily have made her smile but had mysteriously lost its effectiveness this time around. It was this – the unnecessary, overwhelming anxiety she felt in stressful situations – that she had always hated about herself. Unfortunately, it had only worsened over the years, and she hadn't quite found a solution to her trembling hands and shallow breaths.

"We're here." His voice was low. When she glanced in his direction, she caught the moment of indecision on his face – as if he'd wanted to say something else, before opting against it. "I'll find you when it's over." Curt as ever, but not without an undertone of care.

Eru focussed on the slight pressure his palm exerted on her lower back and tried to calm the relentless beating of her heart. Then, with a few parting words of encouragement, Seijuro departed, leaving her feeling utterly defenceless.

Eru had arrived at the clubroom early to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to herself. As it turned out, she wasn't the first. When she gingerly pushed the door open, she was surprised to be greeted immediately by laughter and animated conversations.

"Nanase-chan!" Igarashi was grinning, and she was momentarily caught off-guard. Judging from the relaxed way that he was reclined on a couch, it seemed that he had already integrated himself among the club's senior members.

"Um, hello." She inclined her head shyly and was immediately greeted by bright smiles.

A willowy girl with shoulder-length dark hair slipped off her seat and headed towards her. In the split second that Eru managed to temporarily meet her gaze, it was impossible to ignore the calm, intelligent gleam in her eyes that was vaguely reminiscent of Seijuro. However, any uncertainty with regard to her character was instantly dissipated the moment Eru reached out to shake the girl's extended hand.

"I'm the club president, Fukami Kanae. It's a pleasure to meet you, Nanase-chan." Upon seeing Fukami's lips tilt upwards in a cheerful laugh that reached her eyes, Eru swore she could almost _feel_ the warmth the girl exuded.

The other members – there were five excluding Igarashi – jovially echoed her greeting, and she was struck by the immense contrast to the hostile welcome she had received upon joining Teiko's basketball team. After a round of brief introductions, Fukami waved Igarashi and her over to the wide discussion table positioned next to the window, leaving the others to resume their casual conversations.

"As I'm sure you know," Fukami began, after settling into a comfortable swivel chair. "This club encourages you to explore any genre through reading and writing. Club sessions are for us to bounce ideas among everyone, share your writing, and collaborate with each other.

"Unfortunately, we've had a lot fewer sign-ups over the last couple of years, so you're the only two first years we've got…" She continued wistfully. "But we've managed to successfully avoid recruiting absolute imbeciles because of that, so it's not a _complete_ loss."

While Igarashi laughed, Eru forced herself to hide the look of relief that threatened to make its grand appearance across her face. After three years managing the basketball team, she had more than enough of dealing with oversubscribed clubs. This tiny club of just eight members was an ideal place to do something she'd always enjoyed; and maybe, just maybe, it was where she'd find a community, a _home_. Somewhere she could proudly pursue her interests alongside like-minded people without fear of judgement.

"Anyway, regarding collaboration," Fukami interrupted her train of thoughts, "it's convenient that you two know each other because you're going to be partners!"

"What?" To any bystander, the differences in their reactions would have been comical. Any positive emotion reflected on her face earlier was instantly replaced by an expression that was nothing short of confusion and reluctance, while Igarashi gave her a thumbs up and yet _another_ grin on his perpetually-smiling mouth.

"C'mon Nanase-chan, I'm not that bad." His words were teasing but his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and Eru instantly regretted her immediate outburst. He was right, but he was so, utterly wrong at the same time. It wasn't that she disliked him – because she really didn't – but the fact that she hadn't quite expected there to be anything close to teamwork in a hobby she considered extremely personal.

Sensing her discomfort, Fukami hastened to salvage the situation. "It's mostly individual. But once every couple of months, partners are meant to work together on a piece, to learn from each other's writing styles; then the rest of the club gives you feedback on your work."

Despite her lingering apprehension, Eru found herself unwittingly returning Fukami's reassuring smile – albeit with an air of uncertainty. "That does sound… interesting," she ventured, and Igarashi chimed in with a noise of agreement.

"Perfect," Fukami said, evidently relieved, "Maybe you two can spend the remaining time getting to know each other a bit more."

Before Eru could even consider protesting, Igarashi angled his upper body towards her. "What do you say, ace? Ready to be the best team?"

"It's not a competition," she said instinctively, "But… I guess I'm ready to have fun." Her response was awkward and stupid, she _knew_ it was. But that somehow didn't stop Igarashi from grinning as if she was simultaneously the most amusing and endearing person he'd ever encountered. The moment the smile flitted across his face, she was reminded of Kise once more: dorky enthusiasm in all its glory. And when she noticed the tiny creases by his eyes that wordlessly proved the sincerity in his efforts, she made the spontaneous decision to be carried away by the figurative storm he – and his name – so perfectly embodied.

When she met his gaze, it felt as though the air had shifted and Igarashi could somehow sense her new resolve. He regarded her in a way that made her feel completely vulnerable – like he was able to see right through the façade she tried so desperately to maintain.

"So Nanase-chan, what genre do you like writing?" His eyes were soft and curious, with a certain innocence in them that she hadn't noticed before. And perhaps it was the fact that he just _felt_ like Kise, or how his eager green eyes never left hers, or simply how some people were inexplicably easier to trust than others; either way, Eru found herself unexpectedly dismissing the gnawing fear that usually held her back from opening up to others.

"Something idyllic, I guess," she began hesitantly, "of scenery and nature, sunrises and sunsets." It was impossible to meet his gaze, especially not when he had gone quiet and was listening with rapt attention. "Something ideal: with romances and happy endings for those who deserve it, and justice served to those who don't."

"Way too deep for me, Nanase-chan," he laughed. "Don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that." In her peripheral vision, she saw the corners of his mouth tilt upwards ever-so-slightly. "So you like writing stories?"

She shook her head. "Just excerpts. Snippets of my thoughts; tiny bursts of inspiration." Somehow, she could never bring herself to finish any of her works. To her overly-critical, perfectionistic self, they always seemed suboptimal a few months after writing them. That incidentally played an integral role in her reluctance to write with someone else – if she had trouble appreciating her own writing, how could she possibly expect someone else to?

"Same, but because I'm terrible with commitment. Usually lose inspiration halfway through." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly at his confession.

"What about you?" Eru asked, the slightest smile playing on her lips. "What do you like writing?" His verdant eyes lit up at her question, as though he had been waiting eagerly for an opening but feared to come across as impolite.

"Dialogue. Good, _funny_ dialogue," he said excitedly, and something in his voice made her look up to meet his gaze. "The kind that'll make people smile when they're having a hard time; the kind that people want to share with their friends to brighten their day."

"That's oddly specific," she laughed.

"The literary world lacks humour," he said simply. "Besides, that's why we write, isn't it? To transport us to a different place – a _better_ place." He had hit the nail on the head, because that was exactly why she wrote: to escape to somewhere better, to _be someone better_.

It felt strange to admit it, but she swore her heart paused for just a second. There was passion in his eyes – she hadn't seen it with such intensity in far too long, and she hadn't realised how much she missed it. Instinctively, she thought of Aomine's brilliant grin when he scored; the satisfied smile that graced Midorima's lips when he improved his range, the determination beneath Murasakibara's façade of indifference, and Kise's ambitious vows to catch up with the rest. She recalled the hours Kuroko channelled into the sport, and the tiny light that danced in Seijuro's eyes when he spoke of basketball.

"Yeah," she said softly. "That's why I write too."

* * *

By the time the orientation session ended, Eru felt significantly less daunted by the future in the writing club. Igarashi was a bit _much_ sometimes, but maybe that was exactly what she needed. Alone – and even with Seijuro – she was cautious and wary; the type of person who never quite allowed anyone in. But there was a possibility that Igarashi, with his carefree laughter and inexplicable openness, could change that, if only she gave him the chance to.

So, when they walked towards the doors of the clubroom, Eru made the irreversible decision to let him impact her life. "It was fun today," she began awkwardly, "I don't usually share my writing, but I think I'll enjoy this. Writing with you, I mean."

"Yeah? Well, I'll look forward to this too." He had a grin so wide that it formed little crinkles by his eyes, and it was almost as if he understood her intentions perfectly. When she found herself instinctively returning his smile, it felt as if the heaviness in her heart was slowly being lifted.

Seijuro was waiting just outside the door when they exited, with his blazer draped casually over his left shoulder and a book in his right hand. Eru noticed his slightly disgruntled expression when he saw her engaged in conversation with Igarashi, but it quickly faded when she headed towards him with undisguised enthusiasm.

"Hey," she said softly, her hand brushing lightly across his shoulder in greeting.

"How did you find the orientation session?" He cast her a brief glance as he tucked his novel neatly into his messenger bag.

"It was all right," she shrugged, "Better than expected though. And the other members were really nice!"

"I did tell you it would go smoothly." There was a faint smile on his face, and her heart warmed at the sight of it. "Let's go, Eru. I'll walk you home."

When his gaze settled on her and his right hand shifted to rest on the small of her back, all the while making sure he was in step with her, Eru almost blurted out that she felt as though she was _already_ home. And when he gently slipped her bag off her shoulder and wrapped his scarf around her frame, she just knew that spring had finally come.

 **A/N: on one hand, this is long overdue; on the other, I feel kind of brilliant for thinking of the chapter title (please commend me). this was kind of a dry chapter, but it's also important because it helps to establish the premise of the story better. don't worry I live for akashi-related fluff so there will be a lot soon!**


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